JACK'SV&RD 


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LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  0 
\CAUFORNIA 


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ARRt       ,,    MAC   DOHW 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN. 


JACK'S  WARD; 


OB, 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN. 


BY 

HORATIO  ALGER,  JR., 

AUTHOR  OF  "BAGGED  DICK  SERIES,"  "LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES," 
"TATTERED  TOM  SERIES,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  CO. 

PHILADELPHIA 

CHICAGO  TORONTO 


IOAN  STACK 

FAMOUS  ALGER  BOOKS. 


RAGGED  DICK  SERIES.  By  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.  6  vols.  12mo.  Cloth. 
RAGGED  DICK.  ROUGH  AND  READY. 

FAME  AND  FORTUNE.  BEN  THE  LUGGAGE  BOY. 

MARK  THE  MATCH  BOY.  RUFUS  AND  ROSE. 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES.  By  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.    4  vols.    12mo. 

Cloth.    FIRST  SERIES. 

TATTERED  TOM.  PHIL  THE  FIDDLER. 

PAUL  THE  PEDDLER.  SLOW  AND  SURE. 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES.    4  vols.    12mo.    Cloth.    SECOND  SERIES. 
JULIUS.  SAM'S  CHANCE. 

THE  YOUNG  OUTLAW.  THE  TELEGRAPH  BOY. 

CAMPAIGN  SERIES.     By  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.    3  vols. 

FRANK'S  CAMPAIGN.  CHARLIE  CODMAN'S  CRUISE. 

PAUL  PRESCOTT'S  CHARGE. 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES.  By  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.  4  vols.  12mo. 

Cloth.    FIRST  SERIES. 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK.  STRONG  AND  STEADY. 

SINK  OR  SWIM.  STRIVE  AND  SUCCEED. 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES.    4  vols.    12mo.   Cloth.   SECOND  SERIES. 
TRY  AND  TRUST.  RISEN  FROM  THE  RANKS. 

BOUND  TO  RISE.  HERBERT  CARTER'S  LEGACY. 

BRAVE  AND  BOLD  SERIES.  By  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.   4  vols.  12mo. 

Cloth. 

BRAVE  AND  BOLD.  SHIFTING  FOR  HIMSELF. 

„      JACK'S  WARD.  WAIT  AND  HOPE. 

PACIFIC  SERIES.    By  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.    4  vols.    12mo. 
THE  YOUNG  ADVENTURER.  THE  YOUNG  EXPLORERS. 

THE  YOUNG  MINER.  BEN'S  NUGGET. 

ATLANTIC  SERIES.     By  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.    4  vols. 

THE  YOUNG  CIRCUS  RIDER.  HECTOR'S  INHERITANCE. 

Do  AND  DARE.  HELPING  HIMSELF. 

WAY  TO  SUCCESS  SERIES.  By  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.   4  vols.  12mo. 

Cloth. 

BOB  BURTON.  LUKE  WALTON. 

THE  STORE  BOY.  STRUGGLING  UPWARD. 

NEW  WORLD  SERIES.  By  HORATIO  ALGER,  JR.  3  vols.  12mo.  Cloth. 
DIGGING  FOR  GOLD.      FACING  THE  WORLD.      IN  A  NEW  WORLD. 

Other  Volumes  in  Preparation, 

COP r BIGHT  BY  A.  K  .  LORING,  1875. 


PZL  1 


FRANCIS    S.   SMITH, 

TJ7-JF     "NEW      YORK      WEEKLY* 

This      Volume 

IS    INSCRIBED    BY    HIS     FRIEND, 

THE  AUTHOR. 


239 


PREFACE . 

"  Jack's  Ward  "  is  founded  upon  a  story  which 
the  author  published  some  years  since  anony- 
mously. It  has  been  wholly  rewritten,  con- 
siderably enlarged,  and,  it  is  hoped,  improved. 
I  offer  it  to  my  young  readers  in  its  present 
form  as  the  second  volume  of  the  *  *  Brave  and 
Bold"  Series.  I  shall  have  reason  to  be  gratified 
if  it  receives  as  warm  a  welcome  as  its  prede- 
cessor. 

YORK,  Sept.  6,  1875. 


JACK'S   WAED; 

OB, 

THE   BOY   GUAKDIAN. 


CHAPTER    I. 

JACK   HARDING   GETS   A   JOB. 

k<  LOOK  here,  boy,  can  you  hold  my  horse  a  few 
minutes  ?  "  asked  a  gentleman,  as  he  jumped  from  his 
carriage,  in  one  of  the  lower  streets  in  New  York. 

The  boy  addressed  was  apparently  about  twelve, 
with  a  bright  face  and  laughing  eye,  but  dressed  in 
clothes  of  coarse  material.  This  was  Jack  Harding, 
who  is  to  be  our  hero. 

uYes,  sir,"  said  Jack  with  alacrity,  hastening  to 
the  horse's  head ;  "  I'll  hold  him  as  long  as  you  like." 

"All  right!  I'm  going  in  at  No.  39  ;  I  won't  be 
long." 

"  That's  what  I  call  good  luck,"  said  Jack  to  him- 

9 


10  JACK'S  WARD;  OB, 

self.  "  No  boy  wants  a  job  more  than  I  do.  Father's 
out  of  work,  rent's  most  due,  and  Aunt  Rachel's  wor 
rying  our  lives  out  with  predicting  that  we'll  all  be  in 
the  poor-house  inside  of  three  months.  It's  enough 
to  make  a  fellow  feel  blue,  listenin'  to  her  complainin' 
and  groanin'  all  the  time.  Wonder  whether  she 
was  always  so.  Mother  says  she  was  disappointed  in 
love  when  she  was  young.  I  guess  that's  the  reason." 

"  Have  you  set  up  a  carriage,  Jack?  "  asked  a  boy 
acquaintance,  coming  up  and  recognizing  Jack. 

"  Yes,"  said  Jack,  "  but  it  aint  for  long.     I  shall 
set  down  again  pretty  soon." 

"  I  thought  your  grandmother  had  left  you  a  for- 
tune, and  you  had  set  up  a  team." 

"  No  such  good  news.    It  belongs  to  a  gentleman 
that's  inside." 

"  Inside  the  carriage?" 

"No,  in  No.  39." 

"  How  long's  he  going  to  stay?* 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  If  it  was  half  an  hour,  we  might  take  a  ride,  and 
be  back  in  time." 

Jack  shook  his  head. 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  11 

"That  aint  my  style,"  he  said.  "I'll  stay  here 
till  he  comes  out." 

"Well,  I  must  be  going  along.  Are  you  coming 
to  school  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  I  can't  get  anything  to  do." 

"  Are  you  trying  for  that  ?  " 

"I'd  like  to  get  a  place.  Father's  out  of  work, 
and  anything  I  can  earn  comes  in  handy." 

"My  father's  got  plenty  of  money,"  said  Frank 
Nelson,  complacently.  "There  isn't  any  need  of  my 
working." 

"  Then  your  father's  lucky." 

"And  so  am  I." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that.  I'd  just  as  lieve  work 
as  not." 

"  Well,  I  wouldn't.  I'd  rather  be  my  own  master, 
and  have  my  time  to  myself.  But  I  must  be  going 
home." 

"You're  lazy,  Frank." 

"  Very  likely.    I've  a  right  to  be." 

Frank  Nelson  went  off,  and  Jack  was  left  alone. 
Half  an  hour  passed,  and  still  the  gentleman,  who 
had  entered  No.  39,  didn't  reappear.  The  horse 


12  JACK'S  WARD;  on, 

showed  signs  of  impatience,  shook  his  head,  and 
eyed  Jack  in  an  unfriendly  manner. 

"He  thinks  it  time  to  be  going,"  thought  Jack. 
"  So  do  I.  I  wonder  what  the  man's  up  to.  Per- 
haps he's  spending  the  day." 

Fifteen  minutes  more  passed,  but  then  relief  came. 
The  owner  of  the  carriage  came  out. 

"  Did  you  get  tired  of  waiting  for  me?"  he  asked. 

"  No,"  said  Jack,  shrewdly.  "  I  knew  the  longer 
the  job,  the  bigger  the  pay." 

"  I  suppose  that  is  a  hint,"  said  the  gentleman,  not 
offended. 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  Jack,  and  he  smiled  too. 

"  Tell  me  now,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  the 
money  I  give  you  —  buy  candy  ?  " 

4 'No,"  answered  Jack,  "I  shall  carry  it  home  to 
my  mother." 

"  That's  well.  Does  your  mother  need  the 
money?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  Father's  out  of  work,  and  we've  got 
to  live  all  the  same." 

"  What's  your  father's  business? * 

"  He's  a  cooper." 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  13 

"  So  he's  out  of  work?" 

"Yes,  sir,  and  has  been  for  six  weeks.  Ifs  on 
account  of  the  panic,  I  suppose." 

"Very  likely.  He  has  plenty  of  company  just 
now." 

It  may  be  remarked  that  our  story  opens  in  the 
year  1867,  memorable  for  its  panic,  and  the  business 
depression  which  followed.  Nearly  every  branch  of 
industry  suffered,  and  thousands  of  men  were  thrown 
out  of  work,  and  utterly  unable  to  find  employment 
of  any  kind.  Among  them  was  Timothy  Harding, 
the  father  of  our  hero.  He  was  a  sober,  steady  man, 
and  industrious  ;  but  his  wages  had  never  been  large, 
and  he  had  been  unable  to  save  up  a  reserve  fund,  on 
which  to  draw  in  time  of  need.  He  had  an  excellent 
wife,  and  but  one  child — our  present  hero  ;  but  there 
was  another,  and  by  no  means  unimportant  member 
of  the  family.  This  was  Rachel  Harding,  a  spinster 
of  melancholy  temperament,  who  belonged  to  that 
unhappy  class  who  are  always  prophesying  evil,  and 
expecting  the  worst.  She  had  been  "  disappointed" 
in  early  life,  and  this  had  something  to  do  with  her 


WARD;  o*, 

gloomy  views,  but  probably  she  was  somewhat  in- 
clined by  nature  to  despondency. 

The  family  lived  in  a  humble  tenement,  which, 
however,  was  neatly  kept,  and  would  have  been  a 
cheerful  home  but  for  the  gloomy  presence  of  Aunt 
Kachel,  who,  since  her  brother  had  been  thrown  out 
of  employment  was  gloomier  than  ever. 

But  all  this  while  we  have  left  Jack  and  the 
stranger  standing  in  the  street. 

"You  seem  to  be  a  good  boy,"  said  the  latter, 
"  and,  under  the  circumstances,  I  will  pay  you  more 
than  I  intended." 

He  drew  from  his  vest-pocket  ft  dollar  bill,  and 
handed  to  Jack. 

"  What,  is  all  this  for  me?  "  asked  Jack,  joyfully. 

"  Yes,  on  the  condition  that  you  carry  it  home,  and 
give  it  to  your  mother." 

11  That  I  will,  sir ;  she'll  be  glad  enough  to  get  it." 

"Well,  good-by,  my  boy.  I  hope  your  father'll 
find  work  soon." 

"He's  A  trump!"  ejaculated  Jack.  "Wasn't  it 
lucky  I  was  here  just  as  he  wanted  a  boy  to  hold  his 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  15 

horse.  I  wonder  what  Aunt  Rachel  will  have  to  say 
to  that.  Very  likely  she'll  say  the  bill  is  bad." 

Jack  made  the  best  of  his  way  home.  It  was 
already  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  he  knew  he  would 
be  expected.  It  was  with  a  lighter  heart  than  usual 
that  he  bent  his  steps  homeward,  for  he  knew  that  the 
dollar  would  be  heartily  welcome. 

We  will  precede  him,  and  give  a  brief  description- 
of  his  home. 

There  were  only  five  rooms,  and  these  were  fur- 
nished in  the  plainest  manner.  In  the  sitting-room 
were  his  mother  and  aunt.  Mrs.  Harding  was  a 
motherly  looking  woman,  with  a  pleasant  face,  the 
prevailing  expression  of  which  was  a  serene  cheerful- 
ness, though  of  late  it  had  been  harder  than  usual  to 
preserve  this,  in  the  straits  to  which  the  family  had 
been  reduced.  She  was  setting  the  table  for  tea. 

Aunt  Rachel  sat  in  a  rocking-chair  at  the  window- 
She  was  engaged  in  knitting.  Her  face  was  long  and 
thin,  and,  as  Jack  expressed  it,  she  looked  as  if  she 
hadn't  a  friend  in  the  world.  Her  voice  harmonized 
with  her  mournful  expression,  and  was  equally  dole- 
ful. 


16  JACK'S  WARD;  OR, 

"  I  wonder  why  Jack  don't  come  home,"  said  Mrs. 
Harding,  looking  at  the  clock.  "  He's  generally  here 
at  this  time." 

4 'Perhaps  something's  happened,"  suggested  her 
sister-in-law. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Rachel?" 

"  I  was  reading  in  the  '  Sun '  this  morning  about 
a  boy  being  run  over  out  West  somewhere." 

"  You  don't  think  Jack  has  been  run  over ! " 

"Who  knows?"  said  Rachel,  gloomily.  "  You 
know  how  careless  boys  are,  and  Jack's  very  care- 
less." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  look  for  such  things, 
Rachel." 

"  Accidents  are  always  happening;  you  know  that 
yourself,  Martha.  I  don't  say  Jack's  run  over.  Per- 
haps he's  been  down  to  the  wharves,  and  tumbled 
over  into  the  water  and  got  drowned." 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  say  such  things,  Rachel. 
They  make  me  feel  uncomfortable." 

"  We  may  as  well  be  prepared  for  the  worst,"  said 
Rachel,  severely. 

"Not  this  time,  Rachel,"    said   Mrs.   Harding, 


THE  EOT  GUARDIAN.  17 

brightly,  "for  thafs  Jack's  step  outside.  He  isn't 
drowned  or  run  over,  thank  God ! " 

"  I  hear  him,"  said  Rachel,  dismally.  "  Anybody 
might  know  by  the  noise  who  it  is.  He  always  comes 
stomping  along  as  if  he  was  paid  for  makin'  a  noise. 
Anybody  ought  to  have  a  cast-iron  head  that  lives 
anywhere  within  his  hearing." 

Here  Jack  entered,  rather  boisterously,  it  must  be 
admitted,  in  his  eagerness  slamming  the  door  behind 
him. 


JACI?S  WARD;  OB, 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE  EVENTS  OP  AN  EVENING. 

"  I  AM  glad  you've  come,  Jack,"  said  his  mother. 
4  *  Rachel  was  just  predicting  that  you  were  run  over 
or  drowned." 

"  I  hope  you're  not  very  much  disappointed  to  see 
me  safe  and  well,  Aunt  Rachel,"  said  Jack,  merrily. 
"  I  don't  think  I've  been  drowned." 

"There's  things  worse  than  drowning,"  replied 
Rachel,  severely. 

"Such  as  what?" 

UA  man  that's  born  to  be  hanged  is  safe  from 
drowning." 

"  Thank  you  for  the  compliment,  Aunt  Rachel,  if 
you  mean  me.  But,  mother,  I  didn't  tell  you  of  my 
good  luck.  See  this,"  and  he  displayed  the  dollar  bill. 

"  How  did  you  get  it?  "  asked  his  mother. 

"  Holding  horses.  Here,  take  it,  mother ;  I  war- 
rant you'll  find  a  use  for  it." 


THE   EOT  GUARDIAN. 

"It  comes  in  good  time,"  said  Mrs.  Harding. 
"  We're  out  of  flour,  and  I  had  no  money  to  buy  any. 
Before  you  take  off  your  boots,  Jack,  I  wish  you'd 
run  over  to  the  grocery  store,  and  buy  half  a  dozen 
pounds.  You  may  get  a  pound  of  sugar,  and  quarter 
of  a  pound  of  tea  also." 

"You  see  the  Lord  hasn't  forgotten  us,"  she  re- 
marked, as  Jack  started  on  his  errand. 

"What's  a  dollar?"  said  Rachel,  gloomily. 
"  Will  it  carry  us  through  the  winter?" 

"  It  will  carry  us  through  to-night,  and  perhaps 
Timothy  will  have  work  to-morrow.  Hark,  that's- 
his  step." 

At  this  moment  the  outer  door  opened,  and 
Timothy  Harding  entered,  not  with  the  quick,  elastic 
step  of  one  who  brings  good  tidings,  but  slowly  and 
deliberately,  with  a  quiet  gravity  of  demeanor  in 
which  his  wife  could  read  only  too  well  that  he  had 
failed  in  his  efforts  to  procure  work. 

Reading  all  this  in  his  manner,  she  had  the  deli- 
cacy to  forbear  intruding  upon  him  questions  to 
which  she  saw  it  would  only  give  him  pain  to  reply 

Not  so  Aunt  Rachel. 


20  JACK'S  WARD;  os, 

"I  needn't  ask,"  she  began,  "  whether  you've  got 
work,  Timothy.  I  knew  beforehand  you  wouldn't. 
There  aint  no  use  in  tryin' !  The  times  is  awful  dull, 
and  mark  my  words,  they'll  be  wuss  before  they're 
better.  We  mayn't  live  to  see  'em.  I  don't  expect 
we  shall.  Folks  can't  live  without  money  ;  and  if  we 
can't  get  that,  we  shall  have  to  starve." 

"Not  so  bad  as  that,  Rachel,"  said  the  cooper, 
trying  to  look  cheerful ;  "I  don't  talk  about  starving 
till  the  time  comes.  Anyhow,"  glancing  at  the 
table,  on  which  was  spread  a  good  plain  meal,  "  we 
needn't  talk  about  starving  till  to-morrow  with  that 
before  us.  Where's  Jack  ?  " 

"  Gone  after  some  flour,"  replied  his  wife. 

"  On  credit?"  asked  the  cooper. 

"No,  he's  got  money  enough  to  pay  for  a  few 
pounds,"  said  Mrs.  Harding,  smiling  with  an  air  of 
mystery. 

"Where  did  it  come  from?"  asked  Timothy,  who 
was  puzzled,  as  his  wife  anticipated.  "I  didn't  know 
you  had  any  money  in  the  house." 

"  No  more  we  had ;  but  he  earned  it  himself,  hold- 
ing horses,  this  afternoon." 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  21 

"  Come,  that* s  good,"  said  the  cooper,  cheerfully. 
"We  aint  so  bad  off  as  we  might  be,  you  see, 
Rachel." 

"  Very  likely  the  bill's  bad,"  she  said,  with  the  air 
of  one  who  rather  hoped  it  was. 

"Now,  Kachel,  what's  the  use  of  anticipating 
evil?  "  said  Mrs.  Harding.  "  You  see  you're  wrong, 
for  here's  Jack  with  the  flour." 

The  family  sat  down  to  supper. 

"  You  haven't  told  us,"  said  Mrs.  Harding,  seeing 
her  husband's  cheerfulness  in  a  measure  restored, 
"what  Mr.  Blodgett  said  about  the  chances  for 
employment." 

"Not  much  that  was  encouraging,"  answered 
Timothy.  "  He  isn't  at  all  sure  when  it  will  be  safe 
to  commence  work;  perhaps  not  before  spring." 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  so?"  commented  Eachel,  with 
sepulchral  sadness. 

Even  Mrs.  Harding  couldn't  help  looking  sober. 

"I  suppose,  Timothy,  you  haven't  formed  any 
plans,"  she  said. 

"  No,  I  haven't  had  time.  I  must  try  to  get  some- 
thing else  to  do." 


22  JACK'S  WARD;  OR, 

"What,  for  instance?" 

"  Anything  by  which  I  can  earn  a  little;  I  don't 
care  if  it's  only  sawing  wood.  We  shall  have  to  get 
along  as  economically  as  we  can  —  cut  our  coat 
according  to  our  cloth." 

"  Oh,  you'll  be  able  to  earn  something,  and  we  can 
live  very  plain,"  said  Mrs.  Harding,  affecting  a 
cheerfulness  she  didn't  feel. 

44  Pity  you  hadn't  done  it  sooner,"  was  the  com- 
forting suggestion  of  Rachel. 

"Mustn't  cry  over  spilt  milk,"  said  the  cooper, 
good-humoredly.  "  Perhaps  we  might  have  lived  a 
leetle  more  economically,  but  I  don't  think  we've  been 
extravagant." 

"  Besides,  I  can  earn  something,  father,"  said 
Jack,  hopefully.  "  You  know  I  did  this  afternoon." 

"  So  you  can,"  said  his  mother,  brightly. 

"  There  aint  horses  to  hold  every  day,"  said 
Rachel,  apparently  fearing  that  the  family  might 
become  too  cheerful,  when,  like  herself,  it  was  their 
duty  to  be  profoundly  gloomy. 

u  You're  always  tryin*  to  discourage  people,  Aunt 
Rachel,"  said  Jack,  discontentedly. 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  23 

Rachel  took  instant  umbrage  at  these  words. 

"  I'm  sure,"  said  she,  mournfully,  "  I  don't  want  to 
nake  you  unhappy.  If  you  can  find  anything  to  be 
cheerful  about  when  you're  on  the  verge  of  starva- 
tion, I  hope  you'll  enjoy  yourselves,  and  not  mind 
me.  I'm  a  poor,  dependent  creetur,  and  I  feel  to 
know  I'm  a  burden." 

"  Now,  Rachel,  that's  all  foolishness,"  said  Tim- 
othy. "  You  don't  feel  anything  of  the  kind." 

"  Perhaps  others  can  tell  how  I  feel  better  than  I 
can  myself,"  answered  his  sister,  with  the  air  of  a 
martyr.  "If  it  hadn't  been  for  me,  I  know  you'd 
have  been  able  to  lay  up  money,  and  have  something 
to  carry  you  through  the  winter.  It's  hard  to  be  a 
burden  on  your  relations,  and  bring  a  brother's 
family  to  this  poverty." 

"  Don't  talk  of  being  a  burden,  Rachel,"  said 
Mrs.  Harding.  "  You've  been  a  great  help  to  me  in 
many  ways.  That  pair  of  stockings,  now,  you're 
knitting  for  Jack,  —  that's  a  help,  for  I  couldn't 
have  got  time  for  them  myself." 

"  I  don't  expect,"  said  Aunt  Rachel,  in  the  same 
sunny  manner,  "  that  I  shall  be  able  to  do  it  long. 


24  JACK'S  WARD;  o*, 

From  the  pains  I  have  in  my  hands  sometimes,  I 
expect  I'm  goin'  to  lose  the  use  of  'em  soon,  and  be 
as  useless  as  old  Mrs.  Sprague,  who  for  the  last  ten 
years  of  her  life  had  to  sit  with  her  hands  folded  on 
her  lap.  But  I  wouldn't  stay  to  be  a  burden,  —  I'd  go 
to  the  poor-house  first.  But  perhaps,"  with  the  look 
of  a  martyr,  "they  wouldn't  want  me  there,  because  I'd 
be  discouragin'  'em  too  much." 

Poor  Jack,  who  had  so  unwittingly  raised  this 
storm,  winced  under  the  last  words,  which  he  knew 
were  directed  at  him. 

"  Then  why,"  asked  he,  half  in  extenuation,  "  why 
don't  you  try  to  look  pleasant  and  cheerful?  Why 
won't  you  be  jolly,  as  Tom  Piper's  aunt  is  ? " 

"  I  dare  say  I  aint  pleasant,"  said  Rachel,  "  as  my 
own  nephew  twits  me  with  it.  There  is  some  folks 
that  can  be  cheerful  when  their  house  is  a  burnin' 
down  before  their  eyes,  and  I've  heard  of  one  young 
man  that  laughed  at  his  aunt's  funeral,"  directing  a 
severe  glance  at  Jack ;  "  but  I'm  not  one  of  that  kind. 
I  think,  with  the  Scriptures,  that  there's  a  time  to 
weep." 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  25 

"Doesn't  it  say  there's  a  time  to  laugh,  too?" 
asked  Mrs.  Harding. 

"  When  I  see  anything  to  laugh  about,  I'm  ready 
to  laugh,"  said  Aunt  Eachel ;  "  but  human  nater 
aint  to  be  forced.  I  can't  see  anything  to  laugh  at 
now,  and  perhaps  you  won't  by  and  by." 

It  was  evidently  quite  useless  to  persuade  Rachel 
to  cheerfulness,  and  the  subject  dropped. 

The  tea-things  were  cleared  away  by  Mrs. 
Harding,  who  then  sat  down  to  her  sewing.  Aunt 
Rachel  continued  to  knit  in  grim  silence,  while  Jack 
seated  himself  on  a  three-legged  stool  near  his  aunt, 
and  began  to  whittle  out  a  boat,  after  a  model  lent 
him  by  Tom  Piper,  a  young  gentleman  whose  aunt 
has  already  been  referred  to. 

The  cooper  took  out  his  spectacles,  wiped  them 
carefully  with  his  handkerchief,  and  as  carefully 
adjusted  them  to  his  nose.  He  then  took  down  from 
the  mantel-piece,  one  of  the  few  books  belonging  to 
his  library,  —  "  Dr.  Kane's  Arctic  Explorations,"  — 
and  began  to  read,  for  the  tenth  time,  it  might  be, 
the  record  of  these  daring  explorers. 

The  plain  little  room  presented  a  picture  of  grace 


26  JActfa  WARD;  oj?, 

ful  tranquillity,  but  it  proved  to  be  only  the  calm 
which  preceded  the  storm. 

The  storm  in  question,  I  regret  to  say,  was  brought 
about  by  the  luckless  Jack.  As  has  been  said,  he 
was  engaged  in  constructing  a  boat,  the  particular 
operation  he  was  now  intent  upon  being  the  excava- 
tion, or  hollowing  out.  Now  three-legged  stools  are 
not  the  most  secure  seats  in  the  world.  This,  I 
think,  no  one  will  deny  who  has  any  practical 
acquaintance  with  them.  Jack  was  working  quite 
vigorously,  the  block  from  which  the  boat  was  to  be 
fashioned  being  held  firmly  between  his  knees.  His 
knife  having  got  wedged  in  the  wood,  he  made  an 
unusual  effort  to  draw  it  out,  in  which  he  lost  his 
balance,  and  disturbed  the  equilibrium  of  his  stool, 
which,  with  its  load,  tumbled  over  backwards.  Now, 
it  very  unfortunately  happened  that  Aunt  Rachel  sat 
close  behind,  and  the  treacherous  stool  came  down 
with  considerable  force  upon  her  foot. 

A  piercing  shriek  was  heard,  and  Aunt  Rachel, 
lifting  her  foot,  clung  to  it  convulsively,  while  an 
expression  of  pain  disturbed  her  features. 

At  the  sound,  the  cooper  hastily  removed  his  spec- 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  27 

tacles,  and,  letting  "Dr.  Kane"  fall  to  the  floor, 
started  up  in  great  dismay.  Mrs.  Harding  likewise 
dropped  her  sewing,  and  jumped  to  her  feet  in 
alarm. 

It  did  not  take  long  to  see  how  matters  stood. 

"Hurt  ye  much,  Rachel?"  inquired  Timothy. 

"It's  about  killed  me,"  groaned  the  afflicted 
maiden.  "  Oh,  I  shall  have  to  have  my  foot  cut  off, 
or  be  a  cripple  anyway."  Then  turning  upon  Jack 
fiercely,  "  You  careless,  wicked,  ungrateful  boy,  that 
I've  been  wearin'  myself  out  knittin'  for.  I'm  almost 
sure  you  did  it  a  purpose.  You  won't  be  satisfied 
till  you've  got  me  out  of  the  world,  and  then  —  then, 
perhaps  —  "here  Rachel  began  to  whimper — "per- 
haps you'll  get  Tom  Piper's  aunt  to  knit  your 
stockings." 

"  I  didn't  mean  to,  Aunt  Rachel,"  said  Jack,  peni- 
tently, eying  his  aunt,  who  was  rocking  to  and  fro  in 
her  chair.  "You  know  I  didn't.  Besides,  I  hurt 
myself  like  thunder,"  rubbing  himself  vigorously. 

"  Served  you  right,"  said  his  aunt,  still  clasping 
her  foot. 


28  JAGS' s  WARD;  OR, 

"  Sha'n't  I  get  something  for  you  to  put  on  it, 
Rachel?"  asked  Mrs.  Harding. 

But  this  Rachel  steadily  refused,  and,  after  a  few 
more  postures  indicating  a  great  amount  of  anguish, 
limped  out  of  the  room,  and  ascended  llie  stairs  to 
her  own  apartment. 


TSX  BOY  GUARDIAN.  29 


CHAPTER    III. 

JACK'S  NEW  PLAN. 

Amrr  RACHEL  was  right  in  one  thing,  as  Jack 
realized.  He  could  not  find  horses  to  hold  every 
day,  and  even  if  he  had  succeeded  in  that,  few  would 
have  paid  him  so  munificently  as  the  stranger  of  the 
day  before.  In  fact,  matters  came  to  a  crisis,  and 
something  must  be  sold  to  raise  funds  for  immediate 
necessities.  Now  the  only  article  of  luxury  —  if  it 
could  be  called  so  —  in  the  possession  of  the  family 
was  a  sofa,  in  very  good  preservation,  indeed  nearly 
new,  for  it  had  been  bought  only  two  years  before 
when  business  was  good.  A  neighbor  was  willing  to 
pay  fifteen  dollars  for  this,  and  Mrs.  Harding,  with 
her  husband's  consent,  agreed  to  part  with  it. 

44  If  ever  we  are  able  we  will  buy  another,"  said 
Timothy. 

"  And  at  any  rate  we  can  do  without  it,"  said  his 
wife. 


30  JActfs  WARD;  OM, 

11  Rachel  will  miss  it." 

"She  said  the  other  day  that  it  was  not  com- 
fortable, and  ought  never  to  have  been  bought ;  that 
it  was  a  shameful  waste  of  money." 

"In  that  case  she  won't  be  disturbed  by  our  selling 
it." 

"  No,  I  should  think  not ;  but  it's  hard  to  tell  how 
Rachel  will  take  anything." 

This  remark  was  amply  verified. 

The  sofa  was  removed  while  the  spinster  was  out, 
and  without  any  hint  to  her  of  what  was  going  to 
happen.  When  she  returned,  she  looked  around  for 
it  with  surprise. 

"Where's  the  sofy?"  she  asked. 

"We've  sold  it  to  Mrs.  Stoddard,"  said  Mrs 
Harding,  cherfully. 

"Sold  it !"  echoed  Rachel,  dolefully. 

"  Yes  ;  we  felt  that  we  didn't  need  it,  and  we  did 
need  money.  She  offered  me  fifteen  dollars  for  it, 
and  I  accepted." 

Rachel  sat  down  in  a  rocking-chair,  and  began 
straightway  to  show  signs  of  great  depression  of 
spirits. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  31 

"  Life's  full  of  disappointments ! "  she  groaned. 
"Our  paths  is  continually  beset  by  'em.  There's 
that  sofa.  It's  so  pleasant  to  have  one  in  the  house 
when  a  body's  sick.  But  there,  it's  gone,  and  if 
I  happen  to  get  down,  as  most  likely  I  shall,  for  I've 
got  a  bad  feeling  in  my  stummick  this  very  minute,  I 
shall  have  to  go  upstairs,  and  most  likely  catch  my 
death  of  cold,  and  that  will  be  the  end  of  me." 

"  Not  so  bad  as  that,  I  hope,"  said  Mrs.  Harding, 
cheerfully.  "  You  know  when  you  was  sick  last,  you 
didn't  want  to  use  the  sofa ;  you  said  it  didn't  lay 
comfortable.  Besides,  I  hope  before  you  are  sick 
we  may  be  able  to  buy  it  back  again." 

Aunt  Rachel  shook  her  head  despondingly. 

"  There  aint  any  use  in  hoping  that,"  she  said, 
"  Timothy's  got  so  much  behindhand  that  he  won't  be 
able  to  get  up  again  ;  I  know  he  won't ! " 

"  But,  if  he  only  manages  to  find  steady  work 
soon,  he  will." 

"No,  he  won't,"  said  Rachel,  positively.  "I'm 
sure  he  won't.  There  won't  be  any  work  before 
spring,  and  most  likely  not  then." 

"  You  are  too  desponding,  Aunt  Rachel." 


32  jActfs  WARD;  OB, 

"  Enough  to  make  me  so.     If  you  had  only  taken 
advice,  we  shouldn't  have  come  to  this." 
I  don't  know  what  advice  you  refer  to,"  Rachel, 
said  Mrs.  Harding,  patiently. 

"No,  I  don't  expect  you  do.  My  words  don't 
make  no  impression.  You  didn't  pay  no  attention  to 
what  I  said,  that's  the  reason." 

"  But  if  you'll  repeat  the  advice,  Rachel,  perhaps  we 
can  still  profit  by  it,"  answered  Mrs.  Harding,  with 
imperturbable  good  humor. 

"I  told  you  you  ought  to  be  layin'  up  something 
agin  a  rainy  day.  But  that's  always  the  way. 
Folks  think  when  times  is  good  it's  always  agoin'  to 
be  so,  but  I  know  better." 

"  I  don't  see  how  we  could  have  been  much  more 
economical,"  said  Mrs.  Harding,  mildly. 

"  There's  a  hundred  ways.  Poor  folks  like  us 
ought  not  to  expect  to  have  meat  so  often.  It's 
frightful  to  think  what  the  butcher's  bill  must  have 
been  for  the  last  two  months." 

Inconsistent  Rachel!  Only  the  day  before  she 
nad  made  herself  very  uncomfortable,  because  there 
was  no  meat  for  dinner,  and  said  she  couldn't  live 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  33 

without  it.     Mrs.  Harding  might  have  reminded  her 
of  this,  but  the  good  woman  was  too  kind  and  for-, 
bearing  to  make  the  retort.     She  really  pitied  Rachel* 
for  her  unhappy  habit  of  despondency.      So  she  con- 
tented herself  by  saying  that  they  must  try  to  do 
better  in  future. 

"That's  always  the  way,"  muttered  Rachel ;  shut 
the  stable-door  after  the  horse  is  stolen.  Folks  never 
learn  from  experience  till  it's  too  late  to  be  of  any 
use.  ,  I  don't  see  what  the  world  was  made  for,  for 
my  part.  Everything  goes  topsy-turvy,  and  all  sorts 
of  ways  except  the  right  way.  I  sometimes  think 
'taint  much  use  livin ' ! " 

11  Oh,  you'll  feel  better  by  and  by,  Rachel." 
"No,  I  sha'n't;  I  feel  my  health's  declinin'  every 
day.     I  don't  know  how  I  can  stand  it  when  I  have 
to  go  to  the  poor-house." 

"  We  haven't  gone  there  yet,  Rachel." 
"No,  but  it's  comin'  soon.      We  can't  live  on 
nothin'." 

"Hark,  there's  Jack  coming,"  said  his  mother, 
hearing  a  quick  step  outside. 

"  Yes,  he's  whistlin*  just  as  if  nothin'  was  the  mat- 
8 


84  JACE?S  WARD;  ox, 

ter.  He  don't  care  anything  for  the  awful  condition 
of  the  family." 

"  You're  wrong  there,  Rachel ;  Jack  is  trying  every 
day  to  get  something  to  do.  He  wants  to  do  his  part." 

Rachel  would  have  made  a  reply  disparaging  to 
Jack,  but  she  had  no  chance,  for  our  hero  broke  in  at 
this  instant. 

"  "Well,  Jack?"  said  his  mother,  inquiringly. 

"  I've  got  a  plan,  mother,"  he  said. 

"What's  a  boy's  plan  worth?"  sniffed  Aunt 
Rachel. 

"  Oh,  don't  be  always  hectorin'  me,  Aunt  Rachel," 
said  Jack,  impatiently. 

"  Hectorin' !  Is  that  the  way  my  own  nephew  talks 
tome?" 

"  Well,  it's  so.  You  don't  give  a  feller  a  chance. 
I'll  tell  you  what  I'm  thinking  of,  mother.  I've  been 
talkin'  with  Tom  Blake ;  he  sells  papers,  and  he 
tells  me  he  makes  sometimes  a  dollar  a  day.  Isn't 
that  good?" 

"  Yes,  that  is  very  good  wages  for  a  boy." 

"  I  want  to  try  it,  too ;  but  I've  got  to  buy  the 
papers  first,  you  know,  and  I  haven't  got  any  money. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  35 

So,  if  you'll  lend  me  fifty  cents,  I'll  try  it  this 
afternoon." 

4 'You  think  you  can  sell  them,  Jack?" 

"  I  know  I  can.  I'm  as  smart  as  Tom  Blake,  any 
day." 

"Pride  goes  before  a  fall!"  remarked  Rachel  by 
way  of  a  damper.  "  Disappointment  is  the  common 
lot." 

"  That's  just  the  way  all  the  time,"  said  Jack, 
provoked. 

"  I've  lived  longer  than  you,"  began  Aunt  Rachel. 

"  Yes,  a  mighty  lot  longer,"  interrupted  Jack.  "I 
don't  deny  that." 

"  Now  you're  sneerin'  at  me  on  account  of  my  age, 
Jack.  Martha,  how  can  you  allow  such  things  ?  " 

"Be  respectful,  Jack!" 

"  Then  tell  Aunt  Rachel  not  to  aggravate  me  so. 
Will  you  let  me  have  the  fifty  cents,  mother?" 

"Yes,  Jack.    I  think  your  plan  is  worth  trying." 

She  took  out  half  a  dollar  from  her  pocket-book 
and  handed  it  to  Jack. 

"All  right,  mother.  I'll  see  what  I  can  do 
frith  it." 


86  JACB?S  WARD;  OJB, 

Jack  went  out,  and  Rachel  looked  more  gloomy 
than  ever. 

"  You'll  never  see  that  money  again,  you  may 
depend  on't,  Martha,"  she  said. 

"Why  not,  Rachel?" 

"  Because  Jack'U  spend  it  for  candy,  or  in  some 
other  foolish  way." 

"  You  are  unjust,  Rachel.  Jack  is  not  that  kind 
of  boy." 

"  I'd  ought  to  know  him.  I've  had  chances 
enough." 

u  You  never  knew  him  to  do  anything  dishonest." 

"I  suppse  he's  a  model  boy?" 

"No,  he  isn't.  He's  got  faults  enough,  I  admit; 
but  he  wouldn't  spend  for  his  own  pleasure  money 
given  him  for  buying  papers." 

"  If  he  buys  the  papers,  I  don't  believe  he  can  sell 
them,  so  the  money's  wasted  anyway,"  said  Rachel, 
trying  another  tack. 

"  We  will  wait  and  see,"  said  Mrs.  Harding. 

She  saw  that  Rachel  was  in  one  of  her  unreason- 
able moods,  and  that  it  was  of  no  use  to  continue  the 
discussion. 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  37 


CHAPTER    IV. 

MBS.   HARDING  TAKES   A   BOARDER. 

JACK  started  for  the  newspaper  offices  and  bought 
a  supply  of  papers. 

"I  don't  see  why  I  can't  sell  papers  as  well  as 
other  boys,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  I'm  going  to  try, 
at  any  rate." 

He  thought  it  prudent,  however,  not  to  buy  too 
large  a  stock  at  first.  He  might  sell  them  all,  but 
then  again  he  might  get  "  stuck"  on  a  part,  and  this 
might  take  away  all  his  profits. 

Jack,  however,  was  destined  to  find  that  in  the 
newspaper  business,  as  well  as  in  others,  there  was 
no  lack  of  competition.  He  took  his  place  just  below 
the  Astor  House,  and  began  to  cry  his  papers.  This 
aroused  the  ire  of  a  rival  newsboy  a  few  feet  away. 

"  Get  away  from  here  !  "  he  exclaimed,  scowling  at 
Jack. 

"What  for?  "said  Jack. 


38  JACX?S  WARD;  as, 

"  This  is  my  stand." 

"  Keep  it,  then.  This  is  mine,"  retorted  Jack, 
composedly. 

"  I  don't  allow  no  other  newsboys  in  this  block," 
said  the  other. 

"  Don't  you?  You  aint  the  City  Government, 
are  you  ?  " 

"I  don't  want  any  of  your  impudence.  Clear 
out!" 

*'  Clear  out  yourself! " 

"  I'll  give  you  a  lickin' ! " 

"  Perhaps  you  will  when  you're  able." 

Jack  spoke  manfully;  but  the  fact  was  that  the 
other  boy  probably  was  able,  being  three  years 
older,  and  as  many  inches  taller. 

Jack  kept  on  crying  his  papers,  and  his  opponent, 
incensed  at  the  contemptuous  disregard  of  his 
threats,  advanced  towards  him,  and,  taking  Jack 
unawares,  pushed  him  off  the  sidewalk  with  such 
violence  that  he  nearly  fell  flat.  Jack  felt  that  the 
time  for  action  had  arrived.  He  dropped  his  papers 
temporarily  on  the  sidewalk,  and,  lowering  his  head, 
butted  against  his  young  enemy  with  such  force  as  to 


THE  BOY    GUARDIAN.  39 

double  him  up,  and  seat  him,  gasping  for  breath,  on 
the  sidewalk.  Tom  Rafferty,  for  this  was  his  name, 
looked  up  in  astonishment  at  the  unexpected  form  of 
the  attack. 

"  Well  done,  my  lad ! "  said  a  hearty  voice. 

Jack  turned  towards  the  speaker,  and  saw  a  stout 
man  dressed  in  a  blue  coat  with  brass  buttons.  He 
was  dark  and  bronzed  with  exposure  to  the  weather, 
and  there  was  something  about  him  which  plainly 
indicated  the  sailor. 

"Well  done,  my  lad!"  he  repeated.  You  know 
how  to  pay  off  your  debts." 

"I  try  to,"  said  Jack,  modestly.  "But  where's 
my  papers  ?  " 

The  papers  which  he  had  dropped  had  disappeared. 
One  of  the  boys  who  had  seen  the  fracas  had  seized 
the  opportunity  to  make  off  with  them,  and  poor 
Jack  was  in  the  position  of  a  merchant  who  had  lost 
his  stock  in  trade. 

"Who  took  them  papers?"  he  asked,  looking 
about  him. 

"I  saw  a  hoy  run  off  with  them,"  said  a  by- 
stander. 


40  JACK'S  WARD;  ox, 

"  I'm  glad  of  it,"  said  Tom  Rafferty,  sullenly. 

Jack  looked  as  if  lie  was  ready  to  pitch  into  him 
again,  but  the  sailor  interfered. 

"  Don't  mind  the  papers,  my  lad.  What  were 
they  worth?" 

"  I  gave  twenty  cents  for  'em." 

"  Then  here's  thirty." 

" 1  don't  think  I  ought  to  take  it,"  said  Jack. 
« It's  my  loss." 

"Take  it,  my  boy.  It  won't  ruin  me.  I've  got 
plenty  more  behind." 

"  Thank  you,  sir ;  I'll  go  and  buy  some  more 
papers." 

"  Not  to-night.  I  want  you  to  take  a  cruise  with 
me." 

"All  right,  sir." 

"I  suppose  you'd  like  to  know  who  lam?"  said 
the  sailor,  as  they  moved  off  together. 

"  I  suppose  you're  a  sailor." 

"  Ycu  can  tell  that  by  the  cut  of  my  jib.  Yes, 
my  lad,  I'm  captain  of  the  "Argo,"  now  in  p->rt. 
If  s  a  good  while  since  I've  been  in  York.  Foi  wa« 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  41 

years  I've  been  plying  between  Liverpool  and  Cal- 
cutta. Now  I've  got  absence  to  come  over  here." 

44  Are  you  an  American,  sir?" 

"Yes;  I  was  raised  in  Connecticut,  but  then  I 
began  going  to  sea  when  I  was  only  thirteen.  I  only 
arrived  to-day,  and  I  find  the  city  changed  since  ten 
years  ago  when  I  used  to  know  it." 

"  Where  are  you  staying  —  at  what  hotel? " 

4 '  I  haven't  gone  to  any  yet ;  I  used  to  stay  with  a 
cousin  of  mine,  but  he's  moved.  Do  you  know  any 
good  boarding-place,  where  they'd  make  me  feel  at 
home,  and  let  me  smoke  a  pipe  after  dinner?" 

An  idea  struck  Jack.  They  had  an  extra  room  at 
home,  or  could  make  one  by  his  sleeping  in  the 
sitting-room.  Why  shouldn't  they  take  the  stranger 
to  board  ?  The  money  would  certainly  be  acceptable. 
He  determined  to  propose  it. 

"If  we  lived  in  a  nicer  house,"  he  said,  "  I'd  ask 
you  to  board  at  my  mother's. 

"  Would  she  take  me,  my  lad?  " 

44 1  think  she  would ;  but  we  are  poor,  and  live  in  a 
small  house." 

4 'That  makes  no  odds.     I  aint  a  bit  particular, 


42  JACKS  WARD;  on, 

as  long  as  I  can  feel  at  home.  So  heave  ahead,  my 
lad,  and  we'll  go  and  see  this  mother  of  yours,  and 
hear  what  she  has  to  say  about  it." 

Jack  took  the  way  home  well  pleased,  and,  opening 
the  front  door,  entered  the  sitting-room  followed  by 
the  sailor. 

"Aunt  Rachel  looked  up  nervously,  and  ex- 
claimed, "  A  man  ! " 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  the  stranger.  "Fin  a  man, 
and  no  mistake.  Are  you  this  lad's  mother?  " 

"No,  sir!"  answered  Rachel,  emphatically.  "I 
am  nobody's  mother." 

"  Oh,  an  old  maid ! "  said  the  sailor,  whose  mode 
oi  life  had  made  him  unceremonious. 

"  I  am  a  spinster,"  said  Rachel,  with  dignity. 

"  That's  the  same  thing,"  said  the  visitor,  sitting 
down  opposite  Aunt  Rachel,  who  eyed  him  sus- 
piciously. 

"My  aunt,  Rachel  Harding,  Captain  Bowling," 
introduced  Jack.  "  Aunt  Rachel,  Captain  Bowling 
is  the  commander  of  a  vessel  now  in  port." 

Aunt  Rachel  made  a  stiff  courtesy,  and  Captain 
Bowling  eyed  her  curiously. 


THE  EOT   GUARDIAN".  43 

"  Are  you  fond  of  knitting,  ma'am?  "  he  asked. 

"I  am  not  fond  of  anything,"  said  Rachel, 
mournfully.  "  We  should  not  set  our  affections  upon 
earthly  things." 

"  You  wouldn't  say  that  if  you  had  a  beau, 
ma'am,"  said  Captain  Bowling,  facetiously. 

"  A  beau !  "  repeated  Rachel,  horror-stricken. 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  I  suppose  you've  had  a  beau  some 
time,  or  other." 

"  I  don't  think  it  proper  to  talk  on  such  a  subject 
to  a  stranger,"  said  Aunt  Rachel,  primly. 

"  Law,  ma'am,  you  needn't  be  so  particular." 

Just  at  this  moment,  Mrs.  Harding  entered  the 
room,  and  was  introduced  to  Captain  Bowling  by 
Jack.  The  latter  proceeded  to  business  at  once. 

"  Your  son,  here,  ma'am,  told  me  you  might  may 
be  swing  a  hammock  for  me    somewhere  in    your 
house.     I  liked  his  looks,  and  here  I  am." 

"  Do  you  think  you  would  be  satisfied  with  our 
plain  fare,  and  humble  dwelling,  Captain  Bowling?" 

"I  aint  hard  to  suit,  ma'am;  so,  if  you  can  take 
me,  I'll  stay." 

His  manner  was  frank,  although  rough ;  and  Mrs 


44  jActfs  WARD;  oa, 

Harding  cheerfully  consented  to  do  so.  It  wa» 
agreed  that  Captain  Bowling  should  pay  five  dollars  a 
week  for  the  three  or  four  weeks  he  expected  to  stay. 

"  I'll  be  back  in  an  hour,"  said  the  new  boarder. 
"I've  got  a  little  business  to  attend  to  before 
supper." 

When  he  had  gone  out,  Aunt  Rachel  began  to 
cough  ominously.  Evidently  some  remonstrance  was 
coming. 

"Martha,"  she  said  solemnly,  "I'm  afraid  you've 
done  wrong  in  taking  that  sailor  man." 

"Why,  Rachel?" 

"  He's  a  strange  man." 

"  I  don't  see  anything  strange  about  him,"  said 
Jack. 

"  He  spoke  to  me  about  having  a  beau,"  said  Aunt 
Rachel,  in  a  shocked  tone. 

Jack  burst  into  a  fit  of  hearty  laughter.  "Perhaps 
he's  going  to  make  you  an  offer,  Aunt  Rachel,"  he 
said.  "  He  wants  to  see  if  there's  anybody  in  the 
way." 

Rachel  did  not  appear  so  indignant  as  her  sister- 
in-law  expected. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  45 

"  It  was  improper  for  a  stranger  to  speak  to  me  on 
that  subject,"  she  said  mildly. 

"You  must  make  allowances  for  the  bluntness  of 
a  sailor,"  said  Mrs.  Harding. 

For  some  reason  Rachel  did  not  seem  as  low- 
spirited  as  usual  that  evening.  Captain  Bowling 
entertained  them  with  narratives  of  his  personal 
adventures,  and  it  was  later  than  usual  when  the 
lamps  were  put  out,  and  they  were  all  in  bed. 


46  jActfs  WARD;  ox, 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE  CAPTAIN'S  DEPARTURE. 

"JACK,"  said  the  captain  at  breakfast  the  next 
morning,  "  how  would  you  like  to  go  round  with  me 
to  see  my  vessel?" 

"  I'll  go,"  said  Jack,  promptly. 

"Very  likely  he'll  fall  over  into  the  water  and  be 
drowned,"  suggested  Aunt  Rachel,  cheerfully. 

"I'll  take  care  of  that,  ma'am,"  said  Captain 
Bowling.  "  Won't  you  come  yourself? " 

"  I  go  to  see  a  vessel ! "  repeated  Rachel. 

"Yes;  why  not?" 

"I  am  afraid  it  wouldn't  be  proper  to  go  with 
a  stranger,"  said  Rachel,  with  a  high  sense  of 
propriety. 

"I'll  promise  not  to  run  away  with  you,"  said  the 
captain,  bluntly.  "If  I  should  attempt  it,  Jack 
here  would  interfere." 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  47 

"No,  I  wouldn't,"  said  Jack.  "It  wouldn't  be 
proper  for  me  to  interfere  with  Aunt  Rachel's  plans." 

"You  seem  to  speak  as  if  your  aunt  proposed  to 
run  away,"  said  Mr.  Harding,  jocosely. 

"You  shouldn't  speak  of  such  things,  brother;  I 
am  shocked,"  said  Rachel. 

"  Then  you  won't  go,  ma'am?  "  asked  the  captain. 

"If  I  thought  it  was  consistent  with  propriety," 
said  Rachel,  hesitating.  "What  do  you  think, 
Martha?" 

"I  think  there  is  no  objection,"  said  Mrs.  Harding, 
secretly  amazed  at  Rachel's  entertaining  the  idea. 

The  result  was  that  Miss  Rachel  put  on  her  things, 
and  accompanied  the  captain.  She  was  prevailed  on 
to  take  the  captain's  arm  at  length,  greatly  to  Jack's 
amusement.  He  was  still  more  amused  when  a  boy 
picked  up  her  handkerchief  which  she  had  acci- 
dentally dropped,  and,  restoring  it  to  the  captain, 
said,  "Here's  your  wife's  handkerchief,  gov'nor." 

"  Ho,  ho ! "  laughed  the  captain.  "  He  takes  you 
for  my  wife,  ma'am." 

"  Ho,  ho ! "  echoed  Jack,  equally  amused. 

Aunt  Rachel  turned  red  with  confusion.    "I  am 


48  JACK9 a  WARD;  OB, 

afraid  I  ought  not  to  have  come/'  she  murmured. 
"I  feel  ready  to  drop." 

"  You'd  better  not  drop  just  yet,"  said  the  cap- 
tain—  they  were  just  crossing  the  street  —  "wait 
till  it  isn't  so  muddy." 

On  the  whole,  Aunt  Eachel  decided  not  to  drop. 

The  "  Argo"  was  a  medium-sized  vessel,  and  Jack 
in  particular  was  pleased  with  his  visit.  Though  not 
outwardly  so  demonstrative,  Aunt  Rachel  also 
seemed  to  enjoy  the  expedition.  The  captain,  though 
blunt,  was  attentive,  and  it  was  something  new  to 
her  to  have  such  an  escort.  It  was  observed  that 
Miss  Harding  was  much  less  gloomy  than  usual 
during  the  remainder  of  the  day.  It  might  be  that 
the  captain's  cheerfulness  was  contagious.  For  a 
stranger,  Aunt  Rachel  certainly  conversed  with  him 
with  a  freedom  remarkable  for  her. 

"  I  never  saw  Rachel  so  cheerful,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Harding  to  her  husband  that  evening  after  they  had 
retired.  "  She  hasn't  once  spoken  of  life  being  a 
vale  of  tears  to-day." 

"It's  the  captain,"  said  her  husband.  "He  has 
spirits  that  it  seems  to  enliven  all  of  us." 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  49 

fc%  ^  wish  we    could  have  him   for  a   permanent 


"  Yes  ;  the  five  dollars  a  week  which  he  pays  are 
a  great  help,  especially  now  that  I  am  out  of  work." 

"  What  is  the  prospect  of  getting  work  soon?  " 

"  I  am  hoping  for  it  from  day  to  day,  but  it  may 
be  weeks  yet." 

"  Jack  earned  fifty  cents  to-day  by  selling  papers." 

"  His  daily  earnings  are  an  important  help.  With 
what  the  captain  pays  us,  it  is  enough  to  pay  all  our 
living  expenses.  But  there's  one  thing  that  troubles 
me." 

"The  rent?" 

"Yes,  it  is  c*ue  in  three  weeks,  and  as  yet  I 
haven't  a  dollar  laid  by  to  meet  it.  It  makes  me 
feel  anxious." 

"  Don't  lose  your  trust  in  Providence,  Timothy. 
He  may  yet  carry  ns  over  this  difficulty." 

"  So  I  hope,  but  I  can't  help  feeling  in  what  straits 
we  shall  be,  if  some  help  does  not  come." 

Two  weeks  later,  Captain  Bowling  sailed  for 
Liverpool. 

4 


50  JActfs  WARD;  OB, 

"  I  hope  we  shall  see  you  again  sometime,  cap- 
lain/'  said  Mrs.  Harding. 

"  Whenever  I  come  back  to  New  York,  I  shaD 
come  here  if  you'll  keep  me,"  said  the  bluff  sailor. 

"  Aunt  Rachel  will  miss  you,  captain,"  said  Jack, 
Blyly. 

Captain  Bowling  turned  to  the  confused  spinster. 

"I  hope  she  will,"  said  he,  heartily.  "Perhaps 
when  I  see  her  again,  she'll  have  a  husband." 

"  O  Captain  Bowling,  how  can  you  say  such 
things  ? "  gasped  Rachel,  who,  as  the  time  for  the 
captain's  departure  approached,  had  been  subsiding 
into  her  old  melancholy.  "  There's  other  things  to 
think  of  in  this  vale  of  tears." 

"Are  there?  Well,  if  they're  gloomy,  I  don't 
want  to  think  of  'em.  "Jack,  my  lad,  I  wish  you 
were  going  to  sail  with  me." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Jack. 

"  He's  my  only  boy,  captain,"  said  Mrs.  Harding. 
"  I  couldn't  part  with  him." 

"  I  don't  blame  you,  ma'am,  not  a  particle ;  though 
there's  the  making  of  a  sailor  in  Jack." 


THE  EOT  GUARDIAN.  51 

"  If  he  went  away,  he'd  never  come  back,"  said 
Rachel,  lugubriously. 

"I  don't  know  about  that,  ma'am.  I've  been  a 
sailor,  man  and  boy,  forty  years,  and  here  I  am,  well 
and  hearty  to-day." 

"  The  captain  is  about  your  age,  isn't  he,  Aunt 
Rachel,'  said  Jack,  maliciously. 

"  I'm  only  thirty-nine,"  said  Rachel,  sharply. 

"  Then  I  must  have  been  under  a  mistake  all  my 
life,"  said  the  cooper  to  himself.  "  Rachel's  forty- 
seven,  if  she's  a  day." 

This  remark  he  prudently  kept  to  himself,  or  a  fit 
of  hysterics  would  probably  have  been  the  result. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  taken  you  for  a  day  over  thirty- 
five,  ma'am,"  said  the  captain,  gallantly. 

Rachel  actually  smiled,  but  mildly  disclaimed  the 
compliment. 

4 '  If  it  hadn't  been  for  my  trials  and  troubles," 
she  said,  "I  might  have  looked  younger;  but  they 
are  only  to  be  expected.  It's  the  common  lot." 

"  Is  it?"  said  the  captain.  "  I  can't  say  I've  been 
troubled  much  that  way.  With  a  stout  heart  and  a 
good  conscience  we  ought  to  be  jolly. 


52  JACK'S  WARD;  05, 

"  Who  of  us  has  a  good  conscience?"  asked 
Rachel  in  a  melancholy  tone. 

"I  have,  Aunt  Rachel,"  answered  Jack. 

"You!"     she    exclaimed,     indignantly.     "You, 

iiat  tied  a  tin  kettle  to  a  dog's  tail  yesterday,  and 

« liased  the  poor  cat  till  she  almost  died  of  fright.     I 

bo  awake  nights  thinking  of   the  bad  end  you're 

Lkely  to  come  to  unless  you  change  your  ways." 

Jack  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  the  captain  came 
to  his  help. 

"  Boys  will  be  boys,  ma'am,"  he  said.  "  I  was  up 
to  no  end  of  tricks  myself  when  I  was  a  boy." 

"You  weren't  so  bad  as  Jack,  I  know,"  said 
Rachel. 

"  Thank  you  for  standing  up  for  me,  ma'am;  but 
I'm  afraid  I  was.  I  don't  think  Jack's  so  very  bad, 
for  my  part." 

"  I  didn't  pl»ty  the  tricks  Aunt  Rachel  mentioned," 
said  Jack.  "  11  was  another  boy  in  our  block." 

"You're  all  alike,"  said  Rachel.  I  don't  know 
what  you  boj^s  are  all  coming  to." 

Presently  the  captain  announced  that  he  must  go. 
Jack  accompanied  him  as  far  as  the  pier,  but  the  rest 


THE  SOT   GUARDIAN.  53 

of  the  family  remained  behind.  Aunt  Rachel  became 
gloomier  than  ever. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you'll  do,  now  you've  lost 
your  boarder,"  she  said. 

"He  will  be  a  loss  to  us,  it  is  true,"  said  Mrs. 
Harding;  "but we  are  fortunate  in  having  had  him 
with  us  so  long." 

"It's  only  puttin'  off  our  misery  a  little  longer," 
said  Rachel.  "We've  got  to  go  to  the  poor-house 
after  all." 

Rachel  was  in  one  of  her  moods,  and  there  was  no 
use  in  arguing  with  her,  as  it  would  only  have 
intensified  her  gloom. 

Meanwhile  Jack  was  bidding  good-by  to  the 
captain. 

"  I'm  sorry  you  can't  go  with  me,  Jack,"  said  the 
bluff  sailor. 

"  So  am  I ;  but  I  can't  leave  mother." 

"Right,  my  lad;  I  wouldn't  take  you  away  from 
her.  But  there  —  take  that,  and  don't  forget  me." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  said  Jack,  as  the  captain 
pressed  into  his  hand  a  five-dollar  gold  piec*. 
"May  I  give  it  to  my  mother?" 


54  JActfs  WARD;  OR, 

"  Certainly,  my  lad ;  you  can't  do  better." 

Jack  stood  on  the  wharf  till  the  vessel  was  drawn 

out  into  the  stream  by  a  steam-tug.    Then  he  went 

home. 


THE  BOY  OUARDIAN,  55 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE  LANDLORD'S  VISIT. 

IT  was  the  night  before  the  New  Year.  In  many 
a  household  in  the  great  city  it  was  a  night  of  happy 
anticipation.  In  the  humble  home  of  the  Hardings 
it  was  an  evening  of  anxious  thought,  for  to-morrow 
the  quarter's  rent  was  due. 

"  I  haven't  got  a  dollar  to  meet  the  rent,  Martha," 
said  the  cooper  in  a  depressed  tone. 

"Won't  Mr.  Colman  wait?" 

"  I'm  afraid  not.  You  know  what  sort  of  a  man 
he  is,  Martha.  There  isn't  much  feeling  about  him. 
He  cares  more  for  money  than  anything  else." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  doing  him  injustice." 

"I  am  afraid  not.  Did  you  never  hear  how  he 
treated  the  Underbills  ?  " 

"How?" 

"  Underbill  was  laid  up  with  a  rheumatic  fever  for 
three  months.  The  consequence  was  that  when 


56  JACK'S  WARD;  OR, 

quarter-day  came  round  he  was  in  about  the  same 
situation  with  ourselves  —  a  little  worse,  e\en,  for  hia 
wife  was  sick  also.  But,  though  Colman  was  aware 
of  the  circumstances,  he  had  no  pity:  he  turned 
them  out  without  ceremony." 

"  Is  it  possible?  "  asked  Mrs.  Harding,  uneasily. 

"  And  there's  no  reason  for  his  being  more  lenient 
with  us.  I  can't  but  feel  anxious  about  to-morrow, 
Martha." 

At  this  moment,  verifying  an  old  adage,  which  will 
perhaps  occur  to  the  reader,  who  should  knock  but 
Mr.  Colman  himself.  Both  the  cooper  and  his  wife 
had  an  instinctive  foreboding  as  to  his  visit. 

He  came  in,  rubbing  his  hands  in  a  social  way,  as 
was  his  custom.  No  one,  to  look  at  him,  would  have 
suspected  the  hardness  of  heart  that  lay  veiled  under 
his  velvety  softness  of  manner. 

"  Good-evening,  Mr.  Harding,"  he  said  affably. 
"I  trust  you  and  your  excellent  wife  are  in  good 
health." 

"  That  blessing,  at  least,  is  continued  to  us,"  said 
the  cooper,  gravely. 

"And  how  comfortable  you're  looking  too,  eh  I 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  57 

It  makes  an  old  bachelor  like  me  feel  lonesome  when 
he  contrasts  his  own  solitary  room  with  such  a  scene 
of  comfort  as  this.  You've  got  a  comfortable  home, 
and  dog  cheap,  too.  All  my  other  other  tenants 
are  grumbling  to  think  you  don't  have  to  pay  any 
more  for  such  superior  accommodations.  I've  about 
made  up  my  mind  that  I  must  ask  you  twenty-five 
dollars  a  quarter  hereafter." 

All  this  was  said  very  pleasantly,  but  the  pill  was 
none  the  less  bitter. 

"It  seems  to  me,  Mr.  Colman,"  answered  the 
cooper,  soberly,  "  you  have  chosen  rather  a  singular 
time  for,  raising  the  rent." 

"  Why  singular,  my  good  sir?"  inquired  the  land- 
lord, urbanely. 

"You  know,  of  course,  that  this  is  a  time  of 
general  business  depression  ;  my  own  trade  in  partic- 
ular has  suffered,  greatly.  For  a  month  past  I  have 
not  been  able  to  find  any  work." 

Colman's  face  lost  something  of  its  graciousness. 

"  And  I  fear  I  shall  not  be  able  to  pay  my  quar- 
ter's rent  to-morrow." 


58  JAGS' s  WARD;  O.R, 

"Indeed!"  said  the  landlord,  coldly.  "Perhaps 
you  can  make  it  up  within  two  or  three  dollars." 

"  I  can't  pay  a  dollar  towards  it,"  said  the  cooper. 
"  It's  the  first  time,  in  the  five  years  I've  lived  here, 
that  this  thing  has  happened  to  me.  I've  always 
been  prompt  before." 

"  You  should  have  economized  as  you  found  times 
growing  harder,"  said  Colman,  harshly.  "It  is 
hardly  honest  to  live  in  a  house  when  you  know  you 
can't  pay  the  rent." 

"You  sha'n't  lose  it,  Mr.  Colman,"  said  the 
cooper,  earnestly.  No  one  ever  yet  lost  anything  by 
me,  and  I  don't  mean  anyone  shall,  if  I  can  help  it. 
Only  give  me  a  little  time,  and  I  will  pay  all. 

The  landlord  shook  his  head. 

"You  ought  to  have  cut  your  coat  according  to 
your  cloth,"  he  responded.  "  Much  as  it  will  go 
against  my  feelings,  I  am  compelled  by  a  prudent 
regard  to  my  own  interests,  to  warn  you  that,  in 
case  your  rent  is  not  ready  to-morrow,  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  trouble  you  to  find  another  tenement ;  and 
furthermore,  the  rent  of  this  will  be  raised  five  dol- 
lars a  quarter. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  59 

"I  can't  pay  it,  Mr.  Colman,"  said  Timothy 
Harding,  gravely.  "I  may  as  well  say  that  now; 
and  it's  no  use  agreeing  to  pay  more  rent.  I  pay  all 
I  can  afford  now." 

"  Very  well,  you  know  the  alternative.  Of  course, 
if  you  can  do  better  elsewhere,  you  will.  That's 
understood.  But  it's  a  disagreeable  subject.  We 
won't  talk  of  it  any  more  now.  I  shall  be  round  to- 
morrow forenoon.  How's  your  excellent  sister — as 
cheerful  as  ever?" 

"Quite  as  much  so  as  usual,"  answered  the 
cooper,  dryly. 

"  There's  one  favor  I  should  like  to  ask,"  he  said, 
after  a  pause.  "  Will  you  allow  us  to  remain  here  a 
few  days  till  I  can  look  about  me  a  little  ?  " 

"I  would  with  the  greatest  pleasure  in  the  world," 
was  the  reply  ;  "  but  there's  another  family  very  anx- 
ious to  take  the  house,  and  they  wish  to  come  in  im- 
mediately. Therefore  I  shall  be  obliged  to  ask  you 
to  move  out  to-morrow.  In  fact,  that  is  the  very 
thing  I  came  here  this  evening  to  speak  about,  as  I 
thought  you  might  not  wish  to  pay  the  increased  rent. 

"  We  are  much  obliged  to  you,"  said  the  cooper,  with 


60  JActfs  WARD;  OR, 

a  tinge  of  bitterness  unusual  to  him.  "  If  we  are  to 
be  turned  into  the  street,  it  is  pleasant  to  have  a  few 
hours'  notice  of  it." 

"  Turned  out  of  doors,  my  good  sir !  What  dis- 
agreeable expressions  you  employ !  If  you  reflect 
for  a  moment,  you  will  see  that  it  is  merely  a  matter 
of  business.  I  have  an  article  to  dispose  of.  There 
are  two  bidders,  yourself  and  another  person.  The 
latter  is  willing  to  pay  a  larger  sum.  Of  course 
I  give  him  the  preference,  as  you  would  do  under 
similar  circumstances.  Don't  you  see  how  it  is  ?  " 

"I  believe  I  do,"  replied  the  cooper.  "Of 
course  it's  a  regular  proceeding ;  but  you  must 
excuse  me  if  I  think  of  it  in  another  light,  when 
I  reflect  that  to-morrow  at  this  time  my  family 
may  be  without  a  shelter." 

"My  dear  sir,  positively  you  are  looking  on 
the  dark  side  of  things.  It  is  actually  sinful  for 
you  to  distrust  Providence  as  you  seem  to  do. 
You're  a  little  disappointed,  that's  all.  Just  take 
to-night  to  sleep  on  it,  and  I've  no  doubt  you'll 
see  things  in  quite  a  different  light.  But  positively," 
here  he  rose,  and  began  to  draw  on  his  gloves,  — 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  61 

—  "positively  I  have  staid  longer  than  I  intended. 
Good-night,  my  friends.  I'll  look  in  upon  you 
in  the  morning.  And,  by  the  by,  as  it's  so  near, 
permit  me  to  wish  you  a  Happy  New  Year." 

The  door  closed  upon  the  landlord,  leaving  behind 
two  anxious  hearts. 

"  It  looks  well  in  him  to  wish  that,"  said  the 
cooper,  gloomily.  "  A  great  deal  he  is  doing  to 
make  it  so.  I  don't  know  how  it  seems  to  others ; 
for  my  part,  I  never  say  them  words  to  anyone, 
unless  I  really  wish  'em  well,  and  am  willing  to  do 
something  to  make  'em  so.  I  should  feel  as  if  I  was 
a  hypocrite  if  I  acted  anyways  different. 

Martha  was  not  one  who  was  readily  inclined 
to  think  evil  of  anyone,  but  in  her  own  gentle  heart 
she  could  not  help  feeling  a  repugnance  for  the  man 
who  had  just  left  them.  Jack  was  not  so  reticent. 

"  I  hate  that  man,"  he  said,  decidedly. 

"  You  should  not  hate  any  one,  my  son,"  said  Mrs. 
Harding. 

"  I  can't  help  it,  mother.  Aint  he  goin'  to  turn 
us  out  of  the  house  to-morrow  ?  " 


62  JAC^S  WARD;  OB, 

"  If  we  cannot  pay  our  rent,  he  is  justified  in 
doing  so." 

"Then  why  need  he  pretend  to  be  so  friendly? 
He  don't  care  anything  for  us." 

"  It  is  right  to  be  polite,  Jack." 

"  I  s'pose  if  you're  goin'  to  kick  a  man,  it  should 
be  done  politely,"  said  Jack,  indignantly. 

"  If  possible,"  said  the  cooper,  laughing. 

"Is  there  any  tenement  vacant  in  this  neighbor- 
hood?"  asked  Mrs.  Harding. 

"  Yes,  there  is  one  in  the  next  block  belonging  to 
Mr.  Harrison." 

"  It  is  a  better  one  than  this." 

11  Yes  ;  but  Harrison  only  asks  the  same  rent  that 
we  have  been  paying.  He  is  not  so  exorbitant  as 
Column." 

"Couldn't  we  get  that?" 

"  I  am  afraid  if  he  knows  that  we  have  failed  to 
pay  our  rent  here,  that  he  will  object. 

"  But  he  knows  you  are  honest,  and  that  nothing 
but  the  hard  times  would  have  brought  you  to  thia 
pass." 

"  It  may  be,  Martha.    At  any  rate  you  have  light- 


THE  BOY   GUARDIAN.  63 

ened  my  heart  a  little.  I  feel  as  if  there  was  some 
hope  left  after  all." 

"  We  ought  always  to  feel  so,  Timothy.  There 
was  one  thing  that  Mr.  Colman  said  that  didn't  sound 
so  well,  coming  from  his  lips ;  but  it's  true  for 
all  that." 

"  What  do  you  refer  to?  " 

"  I  mean  that  about  not  distrusting  Providence. 
Many  a  time  have  I  been  comforted  by  reading  the 
verse,  '  Never  have  I  seen  the  righteous  forsaken, 
nor  his  seed  begging  bread.'  As  long  as  we  try  to 
do  what  is  right,  Timothy,  God  will  not  suffer  us 
to  want." 

"  You  are  right,  Martha.  He  is  our  ever-present 
help  in  time  of  trouble.  When  I  think  of  that,  I  feel 
easier." 

They  retired  to  rest  thoughtfully,  but  not  sadly. 

The  fire  upon  the  hearth  flickered  and  died  out  at 
length.  The  last  sands  of  the  old  year  were  running 
out,  and  the  new  morning  ushered  in  its  successor. 


64  JACK'S  WARD;  OB* 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE  NEW  TEAR'S  GIFT. 

" HAPPY  New  Year!"  was  Jack's  salutation  to 
Aunt  Rachel,  as  with  an  unhappy  expression  of  coun- 
tenance she  entered  the  sitting-room. 

4 '  Happy,  indeed ! "  she  repeated  dismally.  "There's 
great  chance  of  its  being  so,  I  should  think.  We 
don't  any  of  us  know  what  the  year  may  bring  forth. 
We  may  all  be  dead  and  buried  before  the  next  new 
year." 

"  If  that's  the  case,"  said  Jack,  "  let  us  be  jolly  as 
long  as  life  lasts." 

44 1  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  such  a  vulgar 
word,"  said  Aunt  Rachel,  disdainfully.  44  I've  heard 
of  drunkards  and  such  kind  of  people  being  jolly  ; 
but,  thank  Providence,  I  haven't  got  to  that  yet." 

44  If  that  was  the  only  way  to  be  jolly,"  said  Jack, 
stoutly,  44then  I'd  be  a  drunkard;  I  wouldn't  carry 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  65 

round  such  a  long  face  as  you  do,  Aunt  Rachel,  for 
any  money/* 

"  It's  enough  to  make  all  of  us  have  long  faces," 
said  his  aunt,  sourly,  "  when  you  are  brazen  enough 
to  own  that  you  mean  to  be  a  miserable  drunkard." 

" 1  didn't  say  any  such  thing,"  said  Jack,  indig- 
nantly. 

"Perhaps  I  have  ears,"  remarked  Aunt  Rachel, 

sententiously,  "  and  perhaps  I  have  not.  It's  a  new 
thing  for  a  nephew  to  tell  his  aunt  that  she  lies. 
They  didn't  use  to  allow  such  things  when  I  was 
young.  But  the  world's  going  to  rack  and  ruin,  and 
I  shouldn't  wonder  if  the  people  was  right  that  say 
it's  coming  to  an  end." 

Here  Mrs.  Harding  happily  interposed,  by  asking 
Jack  to  go  round  to  the  grocery  in  the  next  street, 
and  buy  a  pint  of  milk  for  breakfast. 

Jack  took  his  hat  and  started  with  alacrity,  glad 
to  leave  the  dismal  presence  of  Aunt  Rachel. 

He  had  scarcely  opened  the  door  when  he  started 
back  in  surprise,  exclaiming,  "  By  hokey,  if  there 
isn't  a  basket  on  the  steps ! " 

"A  basket!"  repeated  his  mother   in  surprise. 

6 


66  JACI?S  WARD;  ojz, 

"  Can  it  be  a  new  year's  present  ?  Bring  it  in, 
Jack." 

It  was  brought  in  immediately,  and  the  cover  being 
lifted,  there  appeared  a  female  child,  apparently  a 
year  old. 

All  uttered  exclamations  of  surprise,  each  in  itself 
characteristic. 

"What  a  dear,  innocent  little  thing!"  said  Mrs. 
Harding,  with  true  maternal  instinct. 

"Aint  it  a  pretty  *un?"  exclaimed  Jack,  admi- 
ringly. 

"  It  looks  as  if  it  was  goin'  to  have  the  measles," 
said  Aunt  Rachel,  "or  scarlet  fever.  You'd  better 
not  take  it  in,  Martha,  or  we  may  all  catch  it." 

"  You  wouldn't  leave  it  out  in  the  cold,  would  your 
Rachel?  The  poor  thing  might  die  of  exposure." 

"  Probably  it  will  die,"  said  Rachel,  mournfully. 
"  It's  very  hard  to  raise  children.  There's  something 
unhealthy  in  its  looks." 

"  It  don't  seem  to  me  so.  It  looks  plump  and 
healthy." 

"You  can't  never  judge  by  appearances.  You 
ought  to  know  that,  Martha." 


THE  EOT  GUARDIAN.  67 

"  I  will  take  the  risk,  Rachel." 

"  I  don't  see  what  you  are  going  to  do  with  a  baby, 
when  we  are  all  on  the  verge  of  starvation,  and  going 
to  be  turned  into  the  street  this  very  day,"  remarked 
Rachel,  despondently. 

"  We  won't  think  of  that  just  now.  Common 
humanity  requires  us  to  see  what  we  can  do  for  the 
poor  child." 

So  saying,  Mrs.  Harding  took  the  infant  in  her 
arms.  The  child  opened  its  eyes,  and  smiled. 

"  My!  here's  a  letter,"  said  Jack,  diving  into  the 
bottom  of  the  basket.  "  It's  directed  to  you, 
father." 

The  cooper  opened  the  letter,  and  read  as 
follows :  — 

"  For  reasons  which  it  is  unnecessary  to  state,  the 
guardians  of  this  child  find  it  expedient  to  intrust 
it  to  others  to  bring  up.  The  good  account  which 
they  have  heard  of  you,  has  led  them  to  select 
you  for  that  charge.  No  further  explanation  is 
necessary,  except  that  it  is  by  no  means  their  inten- 
tion to  make  this  a  service  of  charity.  They  there- 
fore inclose  a  certificate  of  deposit  on  the  Broadway 


68  JAC^S  WARD;  ou, 

Bank,  of  five  hundred  dollars,  the  same  having  been 
paid  in  to  your  credit.  Each  year,  while  the  child 
remains  in  your  charge,  the  same  will  in  like  manner 
be  placed  to  your  credit  at  the  same  bank.  It  may 
be  as  well  to  state,  further,  that  all  attempt  to  fathom 
whatever  of  mystery  may  attach  to  this  affair  will 
prove  useless." 

The  letter  was  read  in  amazement.  The  certificate 
of  deposit,  which  had  fallen  to  the  floor,  was  picked 
up  by  Jack,  and  handed  to  his  father. 

Amazement  was  followed  by  a  feeling  of  gratitude 
and  relief. 

"  What  could  be  more  fortunate ! "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Harding.  "  Surely,  Timothy,  our  faith  has  been 
rewarded." 

"  God  has  listened  to  our  cry!"  said  the  cooper, 
devoutly,  "  and  in  the  hour  of  our  sorest  need  He  has 
remembered  us." 

"  Isn't  it  prime?"  said  Jack,  gleefully ;  "  five  hun- 
dred dollars  !  Aint  we  rich,  Aunt  Rachel  ?  " 

"  Like  as  not,"  observed  Rachel,  "  the  certificate 
isn't  genuine.  It  doesn't  look  natural  it  should  be. 
Tve  heard  of  counterfeits  afore  now.  I  shouldn't  be 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  69 

surprised  at  all  if  Timothy  got  took  up  for  presenting 
it." 

"  I'll  take  the  risk,"  said  her  brother,  who  did  not 
seem  much  alarmed  at  the  suggestion 

"Now  you'll  be  able  to  pay  the  rent,  Timothy," 
said  Mrs.  Harding,  cheerfully 

"  Yes,  and  it's  the  last  quarter's  rent  I  mean  to 
pay  Mr.  Colman,  if  I  can  help  it." 

"  Why,  where  are  you  going?"  asked  Jack. 

44  To  the  house  belonging  to  Mr.  Harrison  that  I 
spoke  of  last  night,  that  is,  if  it  isn't  already  engaged. 
I  think  I  will  sec  about  it  at  once.  If  Mr.  Colman 
should  come  in  while  I  am  gone,  tell  him  I  will  be 
back  directly;  I  don't  want  you  to  tell  him  of  the 
change  in  our  circumstances." 

The  cooper  found  Mr.  Harrison  at  home. 

•4  I  called  to  inquire,"  asked  Mr.  Harding, 
%whetner  you  have  let  your  house?" 

44  Not  as  yet, "  was  the  reply, 

44  What  rent  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Twenty  dollars  a  quarter.  I  don't  think  that  un- 
reasonable." 

44  It  is  satisfactory  to  me,"  was  the  cooper's  reply, 


70  JACK'S  WARD;  OJB, 

"  and  if  you  have  no  objections  to  me  as  a  tenant,  I 
will  engage  it  at  once." 

44  Far  from  having  any  objections,  Mr.  Harding," 
was  the  courteous  reply,  "  I  shall  be  glad  to  secure  so 
good  a  tenant.  Will  you  go  over  and  look  at  the 
house  ?  " 

"  Not  now,  sir ;  I  am  somewhat  in  haste.  Can  we 
move  in  to-day?" 

"  Certainly." 

His  errand  satisfactorily  accomplished,  the  cooper 
returned  home. 

Meanwhile  the  landlord  had  called. 

He  was  a  little  surprised  to  find  that  Mrs.  Harding, 
instead  of  looking  depressed,  looked  cheerful  rather 
than  otherwise. 

"  I  was  not  aware  you  had  a  child  so  young,"  he 
remarked,  looking  at  the  baby. 

"  It  is  not  mine,"  said  Mrs.  Harding,  briefly. 

"  The  child  of  a  neighbor,  I  suppose,"  thought  the 
Tandlord. 

Meanwhile  he  scrutinized  closely,  without  appear- 
ing to  do  so,  the  furniture  in  the  room. 

At  this  point  Mr.  Harding  entered  the  house. 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  71 

"Good-morning,"  said  Colman,  affably.  "A  fine 
morning,  Mr.  Harding." 

"  Quite  so,"  responded  his  tenant,  shortly. 

"  I  have  called,  Mr.  Harding,  to  ask  if  you  are 
ready  with  your  quarter's  rent." 

' '  I  think  I  told  you  last  evening  how  I  was  situ- 
ated. Of  course  I  am  sorry  — " 

"So  am  I,"  interrupted  the  landlord,  "  for  I  may 
be  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  unpleasant  measures." 

"  You  mean  that  we  must  leave  the  house." 

"  Of  cdurse  you  cannot  expect  to  remain  in  it,  if 
you  are  unable  to  pay  the  rent.  I  suppose,"  he 
added,  making  an  inventory  of  the  furniture  with  his 
eyes,  "you  will  leave  behind  a  sufficient  amount  of 
furniture  to  cover  your  debt." 

"  Surely  you  would  not  deprive  us  of  our  fur- 
niture ! " 

"  Is  there  any  injustice  in  requiring  payment  of 
honest  debts?" 

"There  are  cases  of  that  description.  However, 
I  will  not  put  you  to  the  trouble  of  levying  on  my 
furniture.  I  am  ready  to  pay  your  dues." 


72  JAC&S  WARD;  <XR, 

"Have  you  the  money?"  asked  Colman  in  sur- 
prise." 

"  I  have,  and  something  over.  Can  you  cash  my 
check  for  five  hundred  dollars?" 

It  would  be  difficult  to  picture  the  amazement  of 
the  landlord. 

"Surely  you  told  me  a  different  story  last  even- 
ing," he  said. 

"Last  evening  and  this  morning  are  different 
times.  Then  I  could  not  pay  you.  Now,  luckily,  I 
am  able.  If  you  will  accompany  me  to1  the  bank,  I 
will  draw  some  money  and  pay  your  bill." 

"  My  dear  sir,  I  am  not  at  all  in  haste  for  the 
money,"  said  the  landlord,  with  a  return  of  his 
affability.  "  Any  time  within  a  week  will  do.  I 
hope,  by  the  way,  you  will  continue  to  occupy  this 
house." 

"  I  don't  feel  like  paying  twenty-five  dollars  a 
quarter." 

"  You  shall  have  it  for  the  same  rent  you  have 
been  paying." 

"  But  you  said  there  was  another  family  who  had 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  73 

offered  you  an  advanced  rent.  I  shouldn't  like  lo  in- 
terfere with  them.  Besides  I  have  already  hired  a 
house  of  Mr.  Harrison  in  the  next  block." 

Mr.  Colman  was  silenced.  He  regretted  too  late 
the  hasty  course  which  had  lost  him  a  good  tenant. 
The  family  referred  to  had  no  existence ;  and,  it  may 
be  remarked,  the  house  remained  vacant  for  several 
months,  when  he  was  glad  to  rent  it  at  the  old 
price. 


JACK'S  WARD;  ox. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

A.  LUCKY  RESCUE. 

THE  opportune  arrival  of  the  child  inaugurated  a 
season  of  comparative  prosperity  in  the  home  of 
Timothy  Harding.  To  persons  accustomed  to  live 
in  their  frugal  way,  five  hundred  dollars  seemed  a 
fortune.  Nor,  as  might  have  happened  in  some 
cases,  did  this  unexpected  windfall  tempt  the  cooper 
or  his  wife  to  enter  upon  a  more  extravagant  mode 
of  living. 

4 'Let  us  save  something  against  a  rainy  day," 
said  Mrs.  Harding. 

"  We  can  if  I  get  work  soon,"  answered  her 
husband.  "  This  little  one  will  add  but  little  to  our 
expenses,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  we  shouldn't 
save  up  at  least  half  of  it." 

"  So  I  think,  Timothy.  The  child's  food  will  not 
amount  to  a  dollar  a  week." 

"There's    no    tellin'  when    you    will    get    work, 


THE  EOT  GUARDIAN.  75 

Timothy,"  said  Rachel  in  her  usual  cheerful  way. 
"It  isn't  well  to  crow  before  you  are  out  of  the 
woods." 

"  Very  true,  Rachel,  It  isn't  your  failing  to  lool 
too  much  at  the  sunny  side  of  the  picture." 

"  I'm  ready  to  look  at  it  when  I  can  see  it  any 
where,"  answered  his  sister  in  the  same  enlivening 
way. 

"  Don't  you  see  it  in  the  unexpected  good  fortune 
which  came  with  this  child  ?  "  asked  Timothy. 

"I've  no  doubt  you  think  it  very  fortunate  now," 
said  Rachel,  gloomily ;  "  but  a  young  chilcPn  a  great 
deal  of  trouble." 

"Do  you  speak  from  experience,  Aunt  Rachel?" 
asked  Jack. 

"Yes,"  said  his  aunt,  slowly.  "If  all  babies 
were  as  cross  and  ill-behaved  as  you  were  when  you 
were  an  infant,  five  hundred  dollars  wouldn't  begin 
to  pay  for  the  trouble  of  having  them  around." 

Mr.  Harding  and  his  wife  laughed  at  the  manner 
in  which  the  tables  had  been  turned  upon  Jack,  but 
the  letter  had  his  wits  about  him  sufficiently  to 
answer,  "  I've  always  heard,  Aunt  Rachel,  that  the 


76  JACOBS  WARD;  ox, 

crosser  a  child  is,  the  pleasanter  he  will  grow  up. 
What  a  very  pleasant  baby  you  must  have  been ! " 

"Jack!"  said  his  mother,  reprovingly;  but  his 
father,  who  looked  upon  it  as  a  good  joke,  remarked, 
good-humoredty,  "  He's  got  you  there,  Rachel." 

But  Rachel  took  it  as  a  serious  matter,  and  ob- 
served that,  when  she  was  young,  children  were  not 
allowed  to  speak  so  to  their  elders. 

"  But  I  don't  know  as  I  can  blame  'em  much,"  she 
continued,  wiping  her  eyes  with  the  corner  of  her 
apron,  "  when  their  own  parents  encourage  'em 
in  it." 

Timothy  was  warned  by  experience  of  Rachel's 
temper,  that  silence  was  his  most  prudent  course. 
Anything  that  he  might  say  would  only  be  likely  to 
make  matters  worse  than  before. 

Aunt  Rachel  sank  into  a  fit  of  deep  despondency, 
and  did  not  say  another  word  till  dinner-time.  She 
eat  down  to  the  table  with  a  profound  sigh,  as  if 
there  was  little  in  life  worth  living  for.  Notwith- 
standing this,  it  was  observed  that  she  had  a  good 
appetite.  Indeed  Miss  Harding  appeared  to  thrive 
on  her  gloomy  views  of  life  and  human  nature.  She 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  77 

was,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  perfectly  consistent  in 
all  her  conduct,  so  far  as  this  peculiarity  was  con- 
cerned. Whenever  she  took  up  a  newspaper,  she 
always  looked  first  to  the  space  appropriated  to 
deaths,  and  next  in  order  to  the  column  of  accidents, 
casualties,  etc.,  and  her  spirits  were  visibly  exhila- 
rated when  she  encountered  a  familiar  name  in  either 
list. 

The  cooper  continued  to  look  out  for  work ;  but  it 
was  with  a  more  cheerful  spirit.  He  did  not  now  feel* 
as  if  the  comfort  of  his  family  depended  absolutely  on 
his  immediate  success.  Used  economically,  the 
money  he  had  by  him  would  last  eight  months  ;  and 
during  that  time  it  was  hardly  possible  that  he 
should  not  find  something  to  do.  It  was  this  sense 
of  security,  of  having  something  to  fall  back  upon, 
that  enabled  him  to  keep  up  good  heart.  It  is  too 
generally  the  case  that  people  are  content  to  live  as 
if  they  were  sure  of  constantly  retaining  their  health, 
and  never  losing  their  employment.  When  a  reverse 
does  come,  they  are  at  once  plunged  into  discourage- 
ment, and  feel  the  necessity  of  doing  something 
immediately.  There  is  only  one  way  of  fending  off 


78 


WARD; 


such  an  embarrassment;  and  that  is,  to  resolve, 
whatever  may  be  the  amount  of  one's  income,  to  lay 
aside  some  part  to  serve  as  a  reliance  in  time  of 
trouble.  A  little  economy  —  though  it  involves  self- 
denial  —  will  be  well  repaid  by  the  feeling  of  security 
it  engenders. 

Mr.  Harding  was  not  compelled  to  remain  inactive 
as  long  as  he  feared.  Not  that  his  line  of  business 
revived,  —  that  still  remained  depressed  for  a  con- 
siderable time,  —  but  another  path  was  opened  to 
him. 

Returning  home  late  one  evening,  the  cooper  saw  a 
man  steal  out  from  a  doorway,  and  attack  a  gentle- 
man, whose  dress  and  general  appearance  indicated 
probable  wealth. 

Seizing  him  by  the  throat,  the  villain  effectually 
prevented  his  calling  for  help,  and  at  once  com- 
menced rifling  his  pockets,  when  the  cooper  arrived 
on  the  scene.  A  sudden  blow  admonished  the  robber 
that  he  had  more  than  one  to  deal  with. 

"  What  are  you  doing?    Let  that  gentleman  be  !  " 
The    villain    hesitated     but     a     moment,    then 


THE   SOT  GUARDIAN".  79 

springing  to  his  feet,  he  hastily  made  off,  under  cover 
of  the  darkness. 

"I  hope  you  have  received  no  injury,  sir,"  said 
Mr.  Harding,  respectfully,  addressing  the  stranger  he- 
had  rescued. 

"No,  my  worthy  friend;  thanks  to  your  timely 
assistance.  The  rascal  nearly  succeeded,  however."" 

"  I  hope  you  have  lost  nothing,  sir." 

"  Nothing,  fortunately.  You  can  form  an  idea  of 
the  value  of  your  interference,  when  I  say  that  I  have 
fifteen  hundred  dollars  with  me,  all  of  which  would 
doubtless  have  been  taken." 

"I  am  glad,", said  Timothy,  "that  I  was  able  to 
do  you  such  a  service.  It  was  by  the  merest  chance 
that  I  came  this  way." 

"Will  you  add  to  my  indebtedness  by  accom- 
panying me  with  that  trusty  club  of  yours  ?  I  have 
some  distance  yet  to  go,  and  the  money  I  have  with 
me  I  don't  want  to  lose." 

"Willingly,"  said  the  cooper. 

"  But  I  am  forgetting,"  continued  the  gentleman, 
"  that  you  will  yourself  be  obliged  to  return  alone." 


80  JACI?S  WARD;  GJZ, 

"I  do  not  carry  enough  money  to  make  me  fear 
an  attack,"  said  Mr.  Harding,  laughing.  "Money 
brings  care,  I  have  always  heard,  and  the  want  of  it 
sometimes  freedom  from  anxiety." 

"  Yet  most  people  are  willing  to  take  their  share 
of  that." 

"You  are  right,  sir,  nor  I  can't  call  myself  an  ex- 
ception. Still  I  would  be  satisfied  with  the  certainty 
of  constant  employment." 

"  I  hope  you  have  that,  at  least." 

"I  have  had  until  three  or  four  months  since." 

"  Then,  at  present,  you  are  unemployed?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  What  is  your  business  ?  " 

"  I  am  a  cooper." 

"  I  will  see  what  I  can  do  for  you.  Will  you  call 
at  my  office  to-morrow,  say  at  twelve  o'clock  ?  " 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  do  so,  sir." 

"I  believe  I  have  a  card  with  me.  Yes,  here  is 
one.  And  this  is  my  house.  Thank  you  for  your 
company.  Let  me  see  you  to-morrow." 

They  stood  before  a  handsome  dwelling-house, 
from  whose  windows,  draped  by  heavy  crimson 


THE   EOT  GUARDIAN.  81 

curtains,  a  soft  light  proceeded.  The  cooper  could 
hear  the  ringing  of  childish  voices  welcoming  home 
their  father,  whose  life,  unknown  to  them,  had  been 
in  such  peril,  and  he  felt  grateful  to  Providence  for 
making  him  the  instrument  of  frustrating  the  designs 
of  the  villain  who  would  have  robbed  the  merchant, 
and  perhaps  done  him  further  injury.  Timothy 
determined  to  say  nothing  to  his  wife  about  the 
night's  adventure,  until  after  his  appointed  meeting 
for  the  next  day.  Then,  if  any  advantage  accrued 
to  him  from  it,  he  would  tell  the  whole  story. 

When  he  reached  home,  Mrs.  Harding  was  sewing 
beside  the  fire.  Aunt  Rachel  sat  with  her  hands 
folded  in  her  lap,  with  an  air  of  martyr-like  resigna- 
tion to  the  woes  of  life. 

"I've  brought  you  home  a  paper,  Rachel,"  said 
her  brother,  cheerfully.  "You  may^find  something 
interesting  in  it." 

"I  sha'n't  be  able  to  read  it  this  evening,"  said 

Rachel,  mournfully.     "  My  eyes  have  troubled  me 

lately.     I  feel  that  it  is  more  than  probable  I  am 

getting  blind;  but  I  trust  I  shall  not  live  to  be  a 

6 


82  JACK'S  WARD;  OR, 

burden  to  you,  Timothy.  Your  prospects  are  dark 
enough  without  that." 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself  with  any  fears  of  that 
sort,  Rachel,"  said  the  cooper,  cheerily.  "I  think  I 
know  what  will  enable  you  to  use  your  eyes  as  well 
as  ever." 

4  <  What  ?  "  asked  Rachel,  with  melancholy  curiosity. 

"  A  pair  of  spectacles." 

"  Spectacles ! "  retorted  Rachel,  indignantly.  "  It 
will  be  a  good  many  years  before  I  am  old  enough  to 
wear  spectacles.  I  didn't  expect  to  be  insulted  by 
my  own  brother.  But  I  ought  not  to  be  surprised. 
It's  one  of  my  trials." 

"I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  your  feelings,  Rachel," 
said  the  cooper,  perplexed. 

"  Good-night !"  said  Rachel,  rising  and  taking  a 
lamp  from  the  table. 

"  Come,  Rachel,  don't  go  up  to  bed  yet ;  it's  only 
nine  o'clock." 

"  After  what  you  have  said  to  me,  Timothy,  my 
self-respect  will  not  allow  me  to  stay." 

Rachel  swept  out  of  the  room  with  something 
more  than  her  customary  melancholy. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  83 

"  I  wish  Rachel  wasn't  quite  so  contrary,"  said  the 
cooper  to  his  wife.  "  She  turns  upon  a  body  so 
sudden  it's  hard  to  know  how  to  take  her.  How's 
the  little  girl,  Martha?"  ' 

"  She's  been  asleep  ever  since  six  o'clock." 

4 '  I  hope  you  don't  find  her  very  much  trouble  ? 
That  all  comes  on  you,  while  we  have  the  benefit  of 
the  money." 

"I  don't  think  of  that,  Timothy.  She  is  a  sweet 
child,  and  I  love  her  almost  as  much  as  if  she  were 
my  own.  As  for  Jack,  he  perfectly  idolizes  her." 

' '  And  how  does  Rachel  look  upon  her  ?  " 

•'I  am  afraid  she  will  never  be  a  favorite  with 
Rachel." 

"Rachel  never  took  to  children  much.  It  isn't  her 
way.  Now,  Martha,  while  you  are  aewing,  I  will 
read  you  the  news." 


84  JACS'S  WARD;  OR, 


CHAPTER    IX. 

WHAT  THE  ENVELOPE   CONTAINED. 

THE  card  which  had  been  handed  to  the  cooper, 
contained  the  name  of  Thomas  Merriam,  No.  — 
Pearl  Street. 

Punctually  at  twelve,  he  presented  himself  at  the 
counting-room,  and  received  a  cordial  welcome  from 
the  merchant. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  he  said  affably.  You 
rendered  me  an  important  service  last  evening,  even 
if  the  loss  of  money  alone  was  to  be  apprehended.  I 
will  come  to  business  at  once,  as  I  am  particularly 
engaged  this  morning,  and  ask  you  if  there  is  any 
way  in  which  I  can  serve  you  ?  " 

"  If  you  could  procure  me  a  situation,  sir,  you 
would  do  me  a  great  service." 

" 1  think  you  told  me  you  were  a  cooper?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Does  this  yield  you  a  good  support?" 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  85 

"  In  good  times  it  pays  me  two  dollars  a  day, 
and  on  that  I  can  support  my  family  comfortably. 
Lately  it  has  been  depressed,  and  paid  me  but  a 
dollar  and  a  half." 

"When  do  you  anticipate  its  revival?" 

"That  is  uncertain.  I  may  have  to  wait  some 
months." 

"And,  in  the  meantime,  you  are  willing  to  under- 
take some  other  employment  ?  " 

"I  am  not  only  willing,  but  shall  feel  very  fortu- 
nate to  obtain  work  of  any  kind.  I  have  no  objec- 
tion to  any  honest  employment." 

Mr.  Merriam  reflected  a  moment. 

"  Just  at  present,"  he  said,  "  I  have  nothing  better 
to  offer  you  than  the  position  of  porter.  If  that  will 
suit  you,  you  can  enter  upon  its  duties  to-morrow." 

"I  shall  be  very  glad  to  undertake  it,  sir.  Any- 
thing is  better  than  idleness." 

"As  to  the  compensation,  that  shall  be  the  same 
that  you  have  been  accustomed  to  earn  by  your 
trade  —  two  dollars  a  day." 

"  I  only  received  that  in  the  best  times,"  said  Tim- 
othy, conscientiously. 


86  JACE?S  WARD;  o/z, 

"Your  services  as  porter  will  be  worth  that 
amount,  and  I  will  cheerfully  pay  it.  I  will  expect 
you  to-morrow  morning  at  eight,  if  you  can  be  here  at 
that  time. ' 

"  I  will  be  here  promptly." 

"  You  are  married,  I  suppose?"  said  the  merchant, 
inquiringly, 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  am  blessed  with  a  good  wife." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that.     Stay  a  moment." 

Mr.  Merriam  went  to  his  desk,  and  presently  came 
back  with  a  sealed  envelope. 

"  Give  that  to  your  wife,"  he  said. 

"  Thank  you,  sir." 

Here  the  interview  terminated,  and  the  cooper 
went  home  quite  elated  by  his  success.  His  present 
engagement  would  enable  him  to  bridge  over  the 
dull  time,  until  his  trade  revived,  and  save  him  from 
incurring  debts,  of  which  he  had  a  just  horror. 

"  You  are  just  in  time,  Timothy,"  said  Mrs. 
Harding,  cheerfully,  as  he  entered.  "We've  got  an 
apple-pudding  to-day." 

"  I  see  you  haven't  forgotten  what  I  like,  Martha." 

"  There's  no  knowing  how  long  you'll  be  able  to 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN".  87 

afford  puddings,"  said  Rachel,  dolefully.  "To  my 
mind  it's  extravagant  to  have  meat  and  pudding 
both,  when  a  month  hence  you  may  be  in  the  poor- 
house." 

"  Then,"  said  Jack,  "  I  wouldn't  eat  any  if  I  were 
you,  Aunt  Rachel." 

4 'Oh,  if  you  grudge  me  the  little  I  eat,"  said  his 
aunt,  in  serene  sorrow,  "I  will  go  without." 

"Tut,  Rachel!  nobody  grudges  you  anything 
here,"  said  her  brother ;  "  and  as  to  the  poor-house, 
I've  got  some  good  news  to  tell  you  that  will  put  that 
thought  out  of  your  head." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Mrs.  Harding,  looking  up 
brightly. 

"  I  have  found  employment." 

"Not  at  your  trade?" 

"No;  but  at  something  else  which  will  pay 
equally  well  till  trade  revives." 

Here  he  told  the  chance  by  which  he  was  enabled 
to  serve  Mr.  Merriam  the  evening  previous,  and  then 
he  gave  an  account  of  his  visit  to  the  merchant's 
counting-room,  and  the  engagement  which  he  had 
made. 


88  JACE?S  WARD;  OR, 

"You  are  indeed  fortunate,  Timothy,"  said  hia 
wife,  her  face  beaming  with  pleasure.  "  Two  dollars 
a  day,  and  we've  got  nearly  the  whole  of  the  money 
left  that  came  with  this  dear  child.  Why,  we  shall 
be  getting  rich  soon ! " 

"Well,  Rachel,  have  you  no  congratulations  to 
offer?"  asked  the  cooper  of  his  sister,  who,  in 
subdued  sorrow,  was  eating  as  if  it  gave  her  no 
pleasure,  but  was  rather  a  self-imposed  penance. 

"I  don't  see  anything  so  very  fortunate  in  being 
engaged  as  a  porter,"  said  Rachel,  lugubriously. 
"  I  heard  of  a  porter  once  who  had  a  great  box  fall 
upon  him  and  kill  him  instantly ;  and  I  was  reading 
in  the  '  Sun '  yesterday  of  another  out  West  some- 
where who  committed  suicide." 

The  cooper  laughed. 

"  So,  Rachel,  you  conclude  that  one  or  the  othei 
of  these  calamities  is  the  inevitable  lot  of  all  who  are 
engaged  in  this  business  ?  " 

"  You  may  laugh  now,  but  it  is  always  well  to  be 
prepared  for  the  worst,"  said  Rachel,  oracularly. 

"But  it  isn't  well  to  be  always  looking  for  it, 
Rachel." 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN'.  89 

"It'll  come  whether  you  look  for  it  or  not," 
retorted  his  sister,  sententiously. 

"Then  suppose  we  waste  no  time  thinking  about 
it,  since,  according  to  your  admission,  it's  sure  to 
come  either  way." 

Rachel  did  not  deign  a  reply,  but  continued  to  eat 
in  serene  melancholy. 

"Won't  you  have  another  piece  of  pudding, 
Timothy?  "  asked  his  wife. 

"  I  don't  care  if  I  do,  Martha,  it's  so  good," 
said  the  cooper,  passing  his  plate.  "  Seems  to  me 
it's  the  best  pudding  you  ever  made." 

"You've  got  a  good  appetite,  that  is  all,"  said 
Mrs.  Harding,  modestly  disclaiming  the  compliment. 

"Apple-puddings   are   unhealthy,"  observed    Ra 
chel. 

"  Then  what  makes  you  eat  them?  "  asked  Jack. 

"A  body  must  eat  something.  Besides,  life  is  so 
full  of  sorrow,  it  makes  little  difference  if  it's  longer 
or  shorter." 

"  Won't  you  have  another  piece,  Rachel?" 

Aunt  Rachel  passed  her  plate,   and  received   a 


90  JACK'S  WARD;  OB, 

second  portion.  Jack  winked  slyly,  but  fortunately 
his  aunt  did  not  observe  it. 

When  dinner  was  over,  the  cooper  thought  of  the 
sealed  envelope  which  had  been  given  him  for  hia 
wife. 

"  Martha,"  he  said,  "  I  nearly  forgot  that  I  have 
something  for  you." 

"Forme?" 

"  Yes,  from  Mr.  Merriam." 

"  But  he  don't  know  me,"  said  Mrs.  Harding,  in 
surprise. 

"  At  any  rate,  he  first  asked  me  if  I  was  married, 
and  then  handed  me  this  envelope,  which  he  asked 
me  to  give  to  you.  I  am  not  quite  sure  whether  I 
ought  to  allow  strange  gentlemen  to  write  letters  to 
my  wife.' 

Mrs.  Harding  opened  the  envelope  with  consider- 
able curiosity,  and  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise 
as  a  bank-note  fell  out,  and  fluttered  to  the  carpet. 

"By  gracious,  mother!"  said  Jack,  springing  to 
get  it,  "  you're  in  luck.  It's  a  hundred-dollar  bill." 

"  So  it  is,  I  declare,"  said  his  mother,  joyfully. 
"  But,  Timothy,  it  isn't  mine.  It  belongs  to  you." 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  91 

"  No,  Martha,  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  It 
belongs  to  you.  You  need  some  clothes,  I  am  sure. 
Use  part  of  it,  and  I  will  put  the  rest  in  the  savings 
bank  for  you." 

"  I  never  expected  to  have  money  to  invest,"  said 
Mrs.  Harding.  "  I  begin  to  feel  like  a  capitalist. 
When  you  want  to  borrow  money,  Timothy,  you'll 
know  where  to  come." 

"Merriam's  a  trump  and  no  mistake,"  said  Jack. 
"By  the  way,  when  you  see  him  again,  father,  just 
mention  that  you've  got  a  son.  Aint  we  in  luck, 
Aunt  Rachel  I " 

"Boast  not  over  much,"  said  his  aunt.  "Pride 
goes  before  destruction,  and  a  haughty  spirit  before  a 
fall." 

"  I  never  knew  Aunt  Kachel  to  be  jolly  but  once," 
said  Jack  under  his  breath;  "and  that  was  at  a 
funeral." 


JACK'S  WARD; 


CHAPTER    X. 

JACK'S  MISCHIEF. 

ONE  of  the  first  results  of  the  new  prosperity  which 
had  dawned  upon  the  Hardings,  was  Jack's  removal 
from  the  street  to  the  school.  While  his  father  was 
out  of  employment,  his  earnings  seemed  necessary ; 
but  now  they  could  be  dispensed  with. 

To  Jack,  the  change  was  not  altogether  agreeable. 
Few  boys  of  the  immature  age  of  eleven  are  devoted 
to  study,  and  Jack  was  not  one  of  these  few.  The 
freedom  which  he  had  enjoyed  suited  him,  and  he 
tried  to  impress  it  upon  his  father  that  there  was  no 
immediate  need  of  his  returning  to  school. 

"Do  you  want  to  grow  up  a  dunce,  Jack?  "said 
his  father. 

"  I  can  read  and  write  already,"  said  Jack. 

"  Are  you  willing  to  enter  upon  life  with  that 
scanty  supply  of  knowledge  ?  " 


THE  JBOT  GUARDIAN".  93 

"  Oh,  I  guess  I  can  get  along  as  well  as  the 
average." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that.  Besides,  I  want  you  to 
do  better  than  the  average.  I  am  ambitious  for  you, 
if  you  are  not  ambitious  for  yourself." 

4 '  I  don't  see  what  good  it  does  a  feller  to  study  so 
hard,"  muttered  Jack. 

"You  won't  study  hard  enough  to  do  you  any 
harm,"  said  Aunt  Rachel,  who  might  be  excused  for 
a  little  sarcasm  at  the  expense  of  her  mischievous 
nephew. 

"  It  makes  my  head  ache  to  study,"  said  Jack. 

"  Perhaps  your  head  is  weak,  Jack,"  suggested  his 
father,  slyly. 

"  More  than  likely,"  said  Rachel,  approvingly. 

So  it  was  decided  that  Jack  should  go  to  school. 

"  I'll  get  even  with  Aunt  Rachel,"  thought  he. 
"  She's  always  talking  against  me,  and  hectorin'  me. 
See  if  I  don't." 

An  opportunity  for  getting  even  with  his  aunt  did 
not  immediately  occur.  At  length  a  plan  suggested 
itself  to  our  hero.  He  shrewdly  suspected  that  his 
aunt's  single  blessedness,  and  her  occasional  denunci- 


94  JAGS' s  WARD;  OB, 

ations  of  the  married  state,  proceeded  from  disap- 
pointment. 

"  I'll  bet  she'd  get  married  if  she  had  a  chance," 
he  thought.  "  I  mean  to  try  her  anyway." 

Accordingly,  with  considerable  effort,  aided  by  a 
schoolfellow,  he  concocted  the  following  letter, 
which  was  duly  copied  and  forwarded  to  his  aunt's 
address :  — 

"  DEAR  GIRL,  —  Excuse  the  liberty  I  have  taken 
in  writing  to  you ;  but  I  have  seen  you  often,  though 
you  don't  know  me  ;  and  you  are  the  only  girl  I  want 
to  marry.  I  am  not  young  —  I  am  about  your  age, 
thirty-five,  —  and  I  have  a  good  trade.  I  have 
always  wanted  to  be  married,  but  you  are  the  only 
one  I  know  of  to  suit  me.  If  you  think  you  can  love 
me,  will  you  meet  me  in  Washington  Park,  next 
Tuesday,  at  four  o'clock  ?  Wear  a  blue  ribbon  round 
your  neck,  if  you  want  to  encourage  me.  I  will 
have  a  red  rose  pinned  to  my  coat. 

"  Don't  say  anything  to  your  brother's  family 
about  this.  They  may  not  like  me,  and  they  may  try 
to  keep  us  apart.  Now  be  sure  and  come. 

"DANIEL." 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  95 

This  letter  reached  Miss  Rachel  just  before  Jack 
went  to  school  one  morning.  She  read  it  through, 
first  in  surprise,  then  with  an  appearance  of 
pleasure. 

"  Who's  your  letter  from,  Aunt  Rachel?"  asked 
Jack,  innocently. 

"  Children  shouldn't  ask  questions  about  what 
don't  concern  'em,"  said  his  aunt. 

"I  thought  maybe  it  was  a  love-letter,"  said  he. 

"  Don't  make  fun  of  your  aunt,"  said  his  father, 
reprovingly. 

"  Jack's  question  is  only  a  natural  one,"  said 
Rachel,  to  her  brother's  unbounded  astonishment. 
'*  I  suppose  I  aint  so  old  but  I  might  be  married  if 
I  wanted  to." 

"  I  thought  you  had  put  all  such  thoughts  out  of 
your  head  long  ago,  Rachel." 

"  If  I  have,  it's  because  the  race  of  men  are  so 
shiftless,"  said  his  sister.  uThey  aint  worth  mar- 
rying." 

"  Is  that  meant  forme?"  asked  the  cooper,  good- 
naturedly. 

"  You're  all  alike,'  said  Rachel,  tossing  her  head. 


96  JACE?S  WARD;  on, 

She  put  the  letter  carefully  into  her  pocket,  without 
deigning  any  explanation. 

"  I  suppose  it's  from  some  of  her  old  acquaint- 
ances," thought  her  brother,  and  he  dismissed  the 
subject. 

As  soon  as  she  could,  Rachel  took  refuge  in  her 
room.  She  carefully  locked  the  door,  and  read  the 
letter  again. 

"  Who  can  he  be  ?  "  thought  the  agitated  spinster. 
"Do  I  know  anybody  of  the  name  of  Daniel?  It 
must  be  some  stranger  that  has  fallen  in  love  with  me 
unbeknown.  What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

She  sat  in  meditation  for  a  short  time.  Then  she 
read  the  letter  again. 

"  He  will  be  very  unhappy  if  I  frown  upon  him," 
she  said  to  herself,  complacently.  "  It's  a  great 
responsibility  to  make  a  fellow-being  unhappy.  It's 
a  sacrifice,  I  know,  but  it's  our  duty  to  deny  our- 
selves. I  don't  know  but  I  ought  to  go  and  meet 
him." 

This  was  Rachel's  conclusion. 

The  time  was  close  at  hand.  The  appointment 
was  for  that  very  afternoon. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  97 

"  I  wouldn't  have  my  brother  or  Martha  know  it 
for  the  world,"  murmured  Rachel  to  herself,  "  nor 
that  troublesome  Jack.  Martha's  got  some  blue  rib- 
bon, but  I  don't  dare  to  ask  her  for  it,  for  fear 
she'll  suspect  something.  No,  I  must  go  out  and 
buy  some." 

"  I'm  goin'  to  walk,  Martha,"  she  said,  as  she 
came  downstairs. 

"  Going  to  walk  in  the  forenoon !  Isn't  that  some- 
thing unusual  ?  " 

"I've  got  a  little  headache.  I  guess  it'll  do  me 
good,"  said  Rachel. 

"I  hope  it  will,"  said  her  sister-in-law,  sympa- 
thetically. 

Rachel  went  to  the  nearest  dry-goods  store,  and 
bought  a  yard  of  blue  ribbon. 

"Only  a  yard?"  inquired  the  clerk  in  some  sur- 
prise. 

"  That  will  do,"  said  Rachel,  nervously,  coloring  a 
little,  as  though  the  use  which  she  designed  for  it 
might  be  suspected. 

She  paid  for  the  ribbon,  and  presently  returned. 
7 


98  JACK'S  WARD;  OB, 

"  Does  your  head  feel  any  better,  Rachel?"  asked 
Mrs.  Harding. 

"  A  little,"  answered  Rachel. 

"  You've  been  sewing  too  steady  lately,  perhaps?' 
suggested  Martha. 

"  Perhaps  I  have,"  assented  Rachel. 

"You  ought  to  spare  yourself.  You  can't  stand 
work  as  well  as  when  you  were  younger,"  said 
Martha,  innocently. 

"  A  body'd  think  I  was  a  hundred  by  the  way  you 
talk,"  said  Rachel,  sharply. 

"I  didn't  mean  to  offend  you,  Rachel.  I  thought 
you  might  feel  as  I  do.  I  get  tired  easier  than  I 
used  to." 

"I  guess  I'll  go  upstairs,"  said  Rachel  in  the 
same  tone.  "There  isn't  anybody  there  to  tell  me 
how  old  I  am  gettin'." 

"It's  hard  to  make  Rachel  out,"  thought  Mrs. 

i 
Harding.     "  She  takes  offence  at  the  most  innocent 

remark.     She  can't  look  upon  herself  as  young,  I  am 
sure." 

Upstairs  Rachel  took  out  the  letter  again,  and 
read  it  through  once  more.  "  I  wonder  what  sort  of 


THE  EOT  GUARDIAN.  99 

a  man  Daniel  is,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  I  wonder  if 
I  have  ever  noticed  him.  How  little  we  know  what 
others  think  of  us  !  If  he's  a  likely  man,  maybe  it's 
my  duty  to  marry  him.  I  feel  I'm  a  burden  to 
Timothy.  His  income  is  small,  and  it'll  make  a 
difference  of  one  mouth.  It  may  be  a  sacrifice,  but 
it's  my  duty." 

In  this  way  Rachel  tried  to  deceive  herself  as  to 
the  real  reason  which  led  her  to  regard  with  favoring 
eyes  the  suit  of  this  supposed  lover  whom  she  had 
never  seen,  and  about  whom  she  knew  absolutely 
nothing. 

Jack  came  home  from  school  at  half-past  two 
o'clock.  He  looked  roguishly  at  his  aunt  as  he 
entered.  She  sat  knitting  in  her  usual  corner. 

"Will  she  go?"  thought  Jack.  "If  she  doesn't 
there  won't  be  any  fun." 

But  Jack,  whose  trick  I  am  far  from  defending, 
was  not  to  be  disappointed. 

At  three  o'clock  Rachel  rolled  up  her  knitting,  and 
went  upstairs.  Fifteen  minutes  later  she  came  down 
dressed  for  a  walk. 


100  JACK'S  WARD;  oj?, 

"Where  are  you  going,  Aunt  Rachel?"  asked 
Jack. 

"  Out  for  a  walk,"  she  answered,  shortly. 

"  May  I  go  with  you?  "  he  asked,  mischievously. 

"  No ;  I  prefer  to  go  alone,"  she  said  curtly. 

"Your  aunt  has  taken  a  fancy  to  walking,"  said 
Mrs.  Harding,  when  her  sister-in-law  had  left  the 
house.  "She  was  out  this  forenoon.  I  don't  know 
what  has  come  over  her." 

"  I  do,"  said  Jack  to  himself. 

Five  minutes  later  he  put  on  his  hat  and  bent  hia 
steps  also  to  Washington  Park. 


THB  BOY  GUARDIAN.  101 


CHAPTER    XI. 
MISS  HARDING' s  MISTAKE. 

Miss  RACHEL  HARDING  kept  on  her  way  to  Wash- 
ington Park.  It  was  less  than  a  mile  from  her 
brother's  house,  and  though  she  walked  slowly,  she 
got  there  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  the  time. 

She  sat  down  on  a  seat  near  the  centre  of  the 
park,  and  began  to  look  around  her.  Poor  Rachel  1 
her  heart  beat  quicker  than  it  had  done  for  thirty 
years,  as  she  realized  that  she  was  about  to  meet  one 
who  wished  to  make  her  his  wife. 

"I  hope  he  won't  be  late,"  she  murmured  to 
herself,  and  she  felt  of  the  blue  ribbon  to  make  sure 
that  she  had  not  forgotten  it. 

Meanwhile  Jack  reached  the  park,  and  from  a 
distance  surveyed  with  satisfaction  the  evident  ner- 
vousness of  his  aunt. 

11  Aint  it  rich?  "  he  whispered  to  himself. 


102  JACK'S  WARD;  on, 

Eachel  looked  anxiously  for  the  gentleman  with 
the  red  rose  pinned  to  his  coat. 

She  had  to  wait  ten  minutes.  At  last  he  came,  but 
as  he  neared  her  seat,  Rachel  felt  like  sinking  into 
the  earth  with  mortification  when  she  recognized  in 
the  wearer  a  stalwart  negro.  She  hoped  that  it  was 
a  mere  chance  coincidence,  but  he  approached  her, 
and  raising  his  hat  respectfully,  said,  — 

"  Are  you  Miss  Harding?" 

"What  if  I  am?"  she  demanded,  sharply, 
44  What  have  you  to  do  with  me  ?  " 

The  man  looked  surprised. 

"  Didn't  you  send  word  to  me  to  meet  you  here?" 

"  No !  "  answered  Rachel,  "  and  I  consider  it  very 
presumptuous  in  you  to  write  such  a  letter  to  me." 

"  I  didn't  write  you  a  letter,"  said  the  negro,  as- 
tonished. 

44  Then  what  made  you  come  here?"  demanded 
the  spinster. 

"  Because  you  wrote  to  me." 

44 1  wrote  to  you ! "  exclaimed  Rachel,  aghast. 

*4  Yes,  you  wrote  to  me  to  come  here.    You  said 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  103 

you'd  wear  a  blue  ribbon  on  your  neck,  and  I  was  to 
have  a  rose  pinned  to  my  coat." 

Rachel  was  bewildered. 

1 '  How  could  I  write  to  you  when  I  never  saw  you 
before,  and  don't  know  your  name.  Do  you  think  a 
lady  like  me  would  marry  a  colored  man  ?  " 

"Who  said  anything  about  that?"  asked  the 
other,  opening  his  eyes  wide  in  astonishment.  UI 
couldn't  marry,  no  how,  for  I've  got  a  wife  and  four 
children." 

Rachel  felt  ready  to  collapse.  Was  it  possible 
that  she  had  made  a  mistake,  and  that  this  was  not 
her  unknown  correspondent,  Daniel  ? 

"  There  is  some  mistake,"  she  said,  nervously. 
"  Where  is  that  letter  you  thought  I  wrote?  Have 
you  got  it  with  you?" 

11  Here  it  is,  ma'am." 

He  handed  Rachel  a  letter  addressed  in  a  small 
hand  to  Daniel  Thompson. 

She  opened  it  and  read,  — 

"MR.  THOMPSON:  —  I  hear  you  are  out  of  work. 
1  may  be  able  to  give  you  a  job.  Meet  me  at  Wash- 


104  JACK'S  WARD;  OR, 

ington  Park,  Tuesday  afternoon,  at  four  o'clock,  I 
shall  wear  a  blue  ribbon  round  my  neck,  and  you  may 
have  a  red  rose  pinned  to  your  coat.  Otherwise  I 
might  not  know  you. 

"  RACHEL  HARDING." 

"  Some  villain  has  done  this,"  said  Rachel,  wrath- 
fuUy.  "  I  never  wrote  that  letter." 

"You  didn't!"  said  Daniel,  looking  perplexed. 
"  Who  went  and  did  it,  then?  " 

"I  don't  know,  but  I'd  like  to  have  him  punished 
for  it,"  said  Rachel,  energetically. 

4 'But  you've  got  a  blue  ribbon,"  said  Mr.  Thomp- 
son. "  I  can't  see  through  that.  That's  just  what 
the  letter  said." 

' '  I  suppose  somebody  wrote  the  letter  that  knew 
I  wear  blue.  It's  all  a  mistake.  You'd  better  go 
home." 

"Then  haven't  you  got  a  job  for  me?"  asked 
Daniel,  disappointed. 

"  No,  I  haven't,"  said  Rachel,  sharply. 

She  hurriedly  untied  the  ribbon  from  her  neck,  and 
put  it  in  her  pocket. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  105 

"  Don't  talk  to  me  any  more ! "  she  said,  frowning. 
"  You're  a  perfect  stranger.  You  have  no  right  to 
speak  to  me." 

"  I  guess  the  old  woman  ain't  right  in  her  head !  " 
thought  Daniel.  "Must  be  she's  crazy ! " 

Poor  Rachel !  she  felt  more  disconsolate  than  ever. 
There  was  no  Daniel,  then.  She  had  been  basely 
imposed  upon.  There  was  no  call  for  her  to  sacrifice 
herself  on  the  altar  of  matrimony.  She  ought  to 
have  been  glad,  but  she  wasn't. 

Half  an  hour  later  a  drooping,  disconsolate  figure 
entered  the  house  of  Timothy  Harding. 

1  'Why,  what's  the  matter,  Rachel?"  asked  Mar- 
tha, who  noticed  her  woe-begone  expression. 

"  I  aint  long  for  this  world,"  said  Rachel,  gloom- 
ily. u  Death  has  marked  me  for  his  own." 

"  Don't  you  feel  well  this  afternoon,  Rachel?" 

"  No ;  I  feel  as  if  life  was  a  burden." 

"You  have  tired  yourself  with  walking,  Rachel. 
You  have  been  out  twice  to-day." 

"  This  is  a  vale  of  tears,"  said  Rachel,  hysteri- 
cally. "There's  nothin'  but  sorrow  and  misfortune 
to  be  expected." 


106  jActfs  WARD;  ox, 

"Have  you  met  with  any  misfortune  ?  I  thought 
Fortune  was  smiling  upon  us  all." 

"  It'll  never  smile  on  me  again,"  said  Rachel, 
despondently. 

Just  then  Jack,  who  had  followed  his  aunt  home, 
entered. 

"  Have  you  got  home  so  quick,  Aunt  Rachel?  "  he 
asked.  "  How  did  you  enjoy  your  walk? " 

u  I  shall  never  enjoy  anything  again,"  said  his 
aunt,  gloomily. 

"  Why  not?" 

"  Because  there's  nothing  to  enjoy." 

"  I  don't  feel  so,  aunt.  I  feel  as  merry  as  a 
cricket." 

"  You  won't  be  long.  Like  as  not  you'll  be  took 
down  with  fever  to-morrow,  and  maybe  die." 

"  I  won't  trouble  myself  about  it  till  the  time 
comes,"  said  Jack.  "  I  expect  to  live  to  dance  at 
your  wedding  yet,  Aunt  Rachel." 

"This  reference  was  too  much.  It  brought  to 
Rachel's  mind  the  Daniel  to  whom  she  had  expected 
to  link  her  destiny,  and  burst  into  a  dismal  sob,  and 
hurried  upstairs  to  her  own  chamber. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  107 

"  Rachel  acts  queerly  to-day,"  said  Mrs.  Harding. 
"  I  think  she  can't  be  feeling  well.  If  she  don't  feel 
better  to-morrow  I  shall  advise  her  to  send  for  the 
doctor." 

"  I  am  afraid  it  was  mean  to  play  such  a  trick  on 
Aunt  Rachel,"  thought  Jack,  half  repentantly.  "I 
didn't  think  she'd  take  it  so  much  in  earnest.  I 
must  keep  dark  about  that  letter.  She'd  never 
forgiye  me  if  she  knew." 

For  some  days  there  was  an  added  gloom  on  Miss 
Rachel's  countenance,  but  the  wound  was  not  deep ; 
and  after  a  time  her  disappointment  ceased  to  rankle 
in  her  too  sensitive  hewfc 


108  JAC£S  WARD;  OB, 


CHAPTER    XII. 

SEVEN  YEARS. 

SEVEN  years  slipped  by  unmarked  ty  any  impor- 
tant change.  The  Hardings  were  still  prosperous  in 
an  humble  way.  The  cooper  had  been  able  to  obtain 
work  most  of  the  time,  and  this,  with  the  annual 
remittance  for  little  Ida,  had  enabled  the  family  not 
only  to  live  in  comfort,  but  even  to  save  up  one 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  year.  The}?-  might  even 
have  saved  more,  living  as  frugally  as  they  were 
accustomed  to  do,  but  there  was  one  point  in  which 
they  would  none  of  them  consent  to  be  economical. 
The  little  Ida  must  have  everything  she  wanted. 
Timothy  brought  home  nearly  every  day  some  little 
delicacy  for  her,  which  none  of  the  rest  thought  of 
sharing.  While  Mrs.  Harding,  far  enough  from 
vanity,  always  dressed  with  extreme  plainness,  Ida's 
attire  was  always  of  good  material  and  made  up 
tastefully. 


THE  EOT  GUARDIAN.  109 

Sometimes  the  little  girl  asked,  "  Mother,  why 
don't  you  buy  yourself  some  of  the  pretty  things  you 
get  for  me?" 

Mrs.  Harding  would  answer,  smiling,  uOh,  I'm  an 
old  woman,  Ida.  Plain  things  are  best  for  me." 

"  No,  I'm  sure  you're  not  old,  mother.  You  don't 
wear  a  cap.  Aunt  Kachel  is  a  good  deal  older  than 
you." 

"Hush,  Ida.  Don't  let  Aunt  Rachel  hear  that. 
She  wouldn't  like  it." 

"  But  she  is  ever  so  much  older  than  you,  mother," 
persisted  the  child. 

Once  Rachel  heard  a  remark  of  this  kind,  and  per- 
haps it  was  that  that  prejudiced  her  against  Ida.  At 
any  rate,  she  was  not  one  of  those  who  indulged  her. 
Frequently  she  rebuked  her  for  matters  of  no  impor- 
tance ;  but  it  was  so  well  understood  in  the  cooper's 
household  that  this  was  Aunt  Rachel's  way,  that  Ida 
did  not  allow  it  to  trouble  her,  as  the  lightest  reproach 
from  Mrs.  Harding  would  have  done. 

Had  Ida  been  an  ordinary  child,  all  this  petting 
would  have  had  an  injurious  effect  upon  her  mind. 
But,  fortunately,  she  had  the  rare  simplicity,  young 


110  JACK'S  WARD;  OR, 

as  she  was,  which  lifted  her  above  the  dangers  which 
might  have  spoiled  her  otherwise.  Instead  of  being 
made  vain  and  conceited,  she  only  felt  grateful  for 
the  constant  kindness  shown  her  by  her  father  and 
mother,  and  brother  Jack,  as  she  was  wont  to  call 
them.  Indeed  it  had  not  been  thought  best  to  let  her 
know  that  such  was  not  the  actual  relations  in  which 
they  stood  to  her. 

There  was  one  point,  much  more  important  than 
dress,  in  which  Ida  profited  by  the  indulgence  of  her 
friends. 

"  Martha,"  the  cooper  was  wont  to  say,  "  Ida  is  a 
sacred  charge  in  our  hands.  If  we  allow  her  to  grow 
up  ignorant,  or  only  allow  her  ordinary  advantages  r 
we  shall  not  fulfil  our  duty.  We  have  the  means, 
through  Providence,  of  giving  her  some  of  those 
advantages  which  she  would  enjoy  if  she  had 
remained  in  that  sphere  to  which  her  parents  doubt- 
less belong.  Let  no  unwise  parsimony  on  our  part 
withhold  them  from  her." 

"  You  are  right,  Timothy,"  said  his  wife  ;  "  right, 
as  you  always  are.  Follow  the  dictates  of  your  own 
heart,  and  fear  not  that  I  shall  disapprove." 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  Ill 

' '  Humpli !  "  said  Aunt  Rachel ;  * c  you  aint  actin* 
right,  accordin*  to  my  way  of  thinkin'.  Readin', 
writin'  and  cypherin'  was  enough  for  girls  to  learn  in 
my  day.  What's  the  use  of  stuffin'  the  girl's  head 
full  of  nonsense  that'll  never  do  her  no  good.  I've 
got  along  without  it,  and  I  aint  quite  a  fool." 

But  the  cooper  and  his  wife  had  no  idea  of  restrict- 
ing Ida's  education  to  the  rather  limited  standard 
indicated  by  Rachel.  So,  from  the  first,  they  sent 
her  to  a  carefully  selected  private  school,  where  she 
had  the  advantage  of  good  associates,  and  where  her 
progress  was  astonishingly  rapid. 

Ida  early  displayed  a  remarkable  taste  for  drawing. 
As  soon  as  this  was  discovered,  her  adopted  parents 
took  care  that  she  should  have  abundant  opportunity 
for  cultivating  it.  A  private  master  was  secured, 
who  gave  her  lessons  twice  a  week,  and  boasted 
everywhere  of  the  progress  made  by  his  charming 
young  pupil. 

"  What's  the  good  of  it  ?  "  asked  Rachel.  "  She'd 
a  good  deal  better  be  learnin'  to  sew  and  knit." 

"All  in  good  time,"  said  Timothy.  "She  can 
attend  to  both." 


112  JAGS' s  WARD;  OB, 

"  I  never  wasted  my  time  that  way,"  said  Rachel. 
"  I'd  be  ashamed  to." 

Nothing  could  exceed  Timothy's  gratification, 
when,  on  his  birth-day,  Ida  presented  him  with  a 
beautifully  drawn  sketch  of  his  wife's  placid  and 
benevolent  face. 

"  When  did  you  do  it,  Ida?"  he  asked,  after  ear- 
nest expressions  of  admiration. 

"  I  did  it  in  odd  minutes,"  she  answered,  "  when  I 
had  nothing  else  to  do." 

"  But  how  could  you  do  it,  without  any  of  us 
knowing  what  you  were  about?" 

"  I  had  a  picture  before  me,  and  you  thought  I  was 
copying  it,  but,  whenever  I  could  do  it  without  being 
noticed,  I  looked  up  at  mother  as  she  sat  at  her  sew- 
ing, and  so,  after  a  while,  I  finished  the  picture." 

"And  a  fine  one  it  is,"  said  the  cooper,  admir- 
ingly. 

Mrs.  Harding  insisted  that  Ida  had  flattered  her, 
but  this  Ida  would  not  admit. 

"  I  couldn't  make  it  look  as  good  as  you,  mother," 
she  said.  "  I  tried,  but  somehow  I  didn't  succeed  as 
I  wanted  to." 


THE   BOY  GUARDIAN.  113 

"You  wouldn't  have  that  difficulty  with  Aunt 
Rachel,"  said  Jack,  roguishly. 

Ida  could  not  help  smiling,  but  Rachel  did  not 
smile. 

"I  see,"  she  said,  with  severe  resignation,  "that 
you've  taken  to  ridiculing  your  poor  aunt  again. 
But  it's  only  what  I  expect.  I  don't  never  expect 
any  consideration  in  this  house.  I  was  born  to  be 
a  martyr,  and  I  expect  I  shall  fulfil  my  destiny.  If 
my  own  relations  laugh  at  me,  of  course  I  can't 
expect  anything  better  from  other  folks.  But  I 
sha'n't  be  long  in  the  way.  I've  had  a  cough  for 
some  time  past,  and  I  expect  I'm  in  a  consumption." 

"  You  make  too  much  of  a  little  joke,  Rachel," 
said  the  cooper,  soothingly.  "  I'm  sure  Jack  didn't 
mean  anything." 

"  What  I  said  was  complimentary,"  said  Jack. 

Rachel  shook  her  head  incredulously. 

4 'Yes  it  was.  Ask  Ida.  Why  won't  you  draw 
Aunt  Rachel,  Ida  ?  I  think  she'd  make  a  very  strik- 
ing picture." 

"So  I  will,"  said  Ida,  hesitatingly,  "if  she  will 
let  me." 


114  JACK'S  WARD;  ojz, 

"  Now,  Aunt  Rachel,  there's  a  chance  for  you," 
said  Jack.  "Take  my  advice,  and  improve  it. 
When  it's  finished  it  can  be  hung  up  in  the  Art 
Rooms,  and  who  knows  but  you  may  secure  a  hus- 
band by  it." 

"  I  wouldn't  marry,"  said  Rachel,  firmly  compress- 
ing her  lips;  "not  if  anybody'd  go  down  on  their 
knees  to  me." 

"Now,  I'm  sure,  Aunt  Rachel,  that's  cruel  of 
you,"  said  Jack,  demurely. 

"  There  aint  any  man  I'd  trust  my  happiness  to," 
pursued  the  spinster. 

"  She  hasn't  any  to  trust,"  observed  Jack,  sotto 
voce. 

"Men  are  all  deceivers,"  continued  Rachel,  "the 
best  of  'em.  You  can't  believe  what  one  of  'em  says. 
It  would  be  a  great  deal  better  if  people  never  mar- 
ried at  all." 

"  Then  where  would  the  world  be  a  hundred  years 
hence  ?  "  suggested  her  nephew. 

"Come  to  an  end,  most  likely,"  answered  Aunt 
Rachel;  "and  I'm  not  sure  but  that  would  be  the 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  115 

best  thing.  It's  growing  more  and  more  wicked  every 
day." 

It  will  be  seen  that  no  great  change  has  come  ovei 
Miss  Rachel  Harding,  during  the  years  that  have 
intervened.  She  takes  the  same  disheartening  view 
of  human  nature  and  the  world's  prospects  as  ever. 
Nevertheless,  her  own  hold  upon  the  world  seems  as 
strong  as  ever.  Her  appetite  continues  remarkably 
good,  and,  although  she  frequently  expresses  herself 
to  the  effect  that  there  is  little  use  in  living,  she 
would  be  as  unwilling  to  leave  the  world  as  any  one. 
It  is  not  impossible  that  she  derives  as  much  enjoy- 
ment from  her  melancholy  as  other  people  from  their 
cheerfulness.  Unfortunately  her  peculiar  mode  of 
enjoying  herself  is  calculated  to  have  rather  a  depress- 
ing influence  upon  the  spirits  of  those  with  whom 
she  comes  in  contact — always  excepting  Jack,  who 
has  a  lively  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  and  never  en- 
joys himself  better  than  in  bantering  his  aunt. 

"I  don't  expect  to  live  more'n  a  week,"  said 
Rachel,  one  day.  "  My  sands  of  life  are 'most  run 
out." 


116  JACK'S  WARD;  O.R, 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that,  Aunt  Rachel?"  asked 
Jack. 

"  Yes,  I've  got  a  presentiment  that  it's  so." 

"Then,  if  you're  sure  of  it,"  said  her  nephew, 
gravely,  "  it  may  be  as  well  to  order  the  coffin  in 
time.  What  style  would  you  prefer  ?  " 

Rachel  retreated  to  her  room  in  tears,  exclaiming 
that  he  needn't  be  in  such  a  hurry  to  get  her  out  of 
the  world,  but  she  came  down  to  supper,  and  ate 
with  her  usual  appetite. 

Ida  is  no  less  a  favorite  with  Jack  than  with  the 
rest  of  the  household.  Indeed  he  has  constituted 
himself  her  especial  guardian.  Rough  as  he  is  in  the 
playground,  he  is  always  gentle  with  her.  When  she 
was  just  learning  to  walk,  and  in  her  helplessness 
needed  the  constant  care  of  others,  he  used,  from 
choice,  to  relieve  his  mother,  of  much  of  the  task  of 
amusing  the  child.  He  had  never  had  a  little  sister, 
and  the  care  of  a  child  as  young  as  Ida  was  a 
novelty  to  him.  It  was  perhaps  this  very  office  of 
guardian  to  the  child,  assumed  when  she  was  young, 
that  made  him  feel  ever  after  as  if  she  were  placed 
under  Ms  special  protection. 


THE  EOT  GUARDIAN.  117 

Ida  was  equally  attached  to  Jack.  She  learned  to 
look  to  him  for  assistance  in  any  plan  she  had  formed, 
and  he  never  disappointed  her.  Whenever  he  could, 
he  would  accompany  her  to  school,  holding  her  by 
the  hand,  and,  fond  as  he  was  of  rough  play,  nothing 
would  induce  him  to  leave  her. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  a  nurse-maid?"  asked 
a  boy  older  than  himself,  one  day. 

Jack's  fingers  itched  to  get  hold  of  his  derisive 
questioner,  but  he  had  a  duty  to  perform,  and  he  con- 
tented himself  with  saying,  "  Just  wait  a  few  min- 
utes, and  I'll  let  you  know." 

"  I  dare  say  you  will,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  rather 
think,  I  shall  have  to  wait  till  both  of  us  are  gray 
before  that  time." 

"  You  will  not  have  to  wait  long  before  you  are 
black  and  blue,"  retorted  Jack. 

"  Don't  mind  what  he  says,  Jack,"  whispered  Ida, 
fearing  that  he  would  leave  her. 

"Don't  be  afraid,  Ida;  I  won't  leave  you.  I'll 
attend  to  his  business  another  time.  I  guess  he 
won't  trouble  us  to-morrow." 

Meanwhile     the    boy,     emboldened     by     Jack's 


118  JACK'S  WARD;  OR, 

passiveness,  followed,  with  more  abuse  of  the  same 
sort.  If  he  had  been  wiser,  he  would  have  seen  a 
storm  gathering  in  the  flash  of  Jack's  eye ;  but  he 
mistook  the  cause  of  his  forbearance 

The  next  day,  as  they  were  going  to  school,  Ida 
saw  the  same  boy  dodging  round  the  corner  with  his 
head  bound  up. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  him,  Jack?"  she  asked. 

"I  licked  him  like  blazes,  that's  all,"  said  Jack, 
quietly.  "  I  guess  he'll  let  us  alone  after  this." 

Even  after  Jack  left  school,  and  got  a  position  in  a 
store  at  two  dollars  a  week,  he  gave  a  large  part  of 
his  spare  time  to  Ida. 

" Really,"  said  Mrs.  Harding,  "Jack  is  as  care- 
ful of  Ida,  as  if  he  was  her  guardian." 

"  A  pretty  sort  of  a  guardian  he  is ! "  said  Aunt 
Rachel.  u  Take  my  word  for  it,  he's  only  fit  to  \ead 
her  into  mischief." 

1 '  You  do  him  injustice,  Rachel.  Jack  is  not  » 
model  boy,  but  he  takes  the  best  care  of  Ida." 

Rachel  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  sniffed  signifi- 
cantly. It  was  quite  evident  that  she  did  not  have  a 
very  favorable  opinion  of  her  nephew. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  119 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

A   MYSTERIOUS   VISITOR. 

ABOUT  eleven  o'clock  one  forenoon,  Mrs.  Harding 
was  in  the  kitchen,  busily  engaged  in  preparing  the 
dinner  when  a  loud  knock  was  heard  at  the  front 
door. 

"Who  can  it  be?"  said  Mrs.  Harding.  "Aunt 
Rachel,  there's  somebody  at  the  door ;  won't  you  be 
kind  enough  to  see  who  it  is  ?  " 

' '  People  have  no  business  to  call  at  such  an  hour 
in  the  morning,"  grumbled  Rachel,  as  she  laid  down 
her  knitting  reluctantly,  and  rose  from  her  seat. 
"  Nobody  seems  to  have  any  consideration  for  any- 
body else.  But  that's  the  way  of  the  world." 

Opening  the  outer  door,  she  saw  before  her  a  tall 
woman,  dressed  in  a  gown  of  some  dark  stuff,  with 
strongly  marked,  and  not  altogether  pleasant  features. 

"Are  you  the  lady  of  the  house?"  inquired  the 
visitor,  abruptly. 


120  JACK'S  WARD;  OR, 

"There  ain't  any  ladies  in  this  house,"  answered 
Rachel.  "  You've  come  to  the  wrong  place.  We 
have  to  work  for  a  living  here." 

"The  woman  of  the  house,  then,"  said  the  stran- 
ger, rather  impatiently.  "  It  doesn't  make  any  dif- 
ference about  names.  Are  you  the  one  I  want  to 
see?" 

"  No,  I  ain't,"  said  Rachel,  shortly. 

"  Will  you  tell  your  mistress  that  I  want  to  see 
her,  then?" 

"I  have  no  mistress,"  said  Rachel.  "What  do 
you  take  me  for  ?  " 

"I  thought  you  might  be  the  servant,  but  that 
don't  matter.  I  want  to  see  Mrs.  Harding.  Will 
you  call  her,  or  shall  I  go  and  announce  myself? " 

"  I  don't  know  as  she'll  see  you.  She's  busy  in 
the  kitchen." 

1 '  Her  business  can't  be  as  important  as  what  I've 
come  about.  Tell  her  that,  will  you  ?  " 

Rachel  did  not  fancy  the  stranger's  tone  or  manner. 
Certainly  she  did  not  manifest  much  politeness.  But 
the  spinster's  curiosity  was  excited,  and  this  led  her 
the  more  readily  to  comply  with  the  request. 


THE  EOT  GUARDIAN.  121 

"  Stay  here,  and  I'll  call  her,"  she  said. 

4 'There's  a  woman  wants  to  see  you,"  announced 
Rachel. 

"  Who  is  it?" 

"I  don't  know.  She  hasn't  got  any  manners ,, 
that's  all  I  know  about  her." 

Mrs.  Harding  presented  herself  at  the  door. 

"  Won't  you  come  in?"  she  asked. 

"Yes  I  will.  What  I've,  got  to  say  to  you  may 
take  some  time." 

Mrs.  Harding,  wondering  vaguely  what  business 
this  strange  visitor  could  have  with  her,  led  the  way 
to  the  sitting-room. 

"  You  have  in  your  family,  "said  the  woman,  after 
seating  herself,  "  a  girl  named  Ida." 

Mrs.  Harding  looked  up  suddenly  and  anxiously. 
Could  it  be  that  the  secret  of  Ida's  birth  was  to  be 
revealed  at  last !  Was  it  possible  that  she  was  to  be 
taken  from  her? 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  simply. 

*  '  Who  is  not  your  child  ?  " 

"  But  I  love  her  as  such.  I  have  always  taught 
her  to  look  upon  me  as  her  mother." 


122  JACX'S  WARD;  ox, 

"  I  presume  so.    My  visit  has  reference  to  her." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  anything  of  her  parentage?" 
Inquired  Mrs.  Harding,  eagerly. 

"  I  was  her  nurse,"  said  the  stranger. 

Mrs.  Harding  scrutinized  anxiously  the  hard  feat- 
ures of  the  woman.  It  was,  at  least,  a  relief  to 
know  that  no  tie  of  blood  connected  her  with  Ida, 
though,  even  upon  her  assurance  she  would  hardly 
have  believed  it. 

"  Who  were  her  parents?" 

"  I  am  not  permitted  to  tell." 

Mrs.  Harding  looked  disappointed. 

"  Surely,"  she  said,  with  a  sudden  sinking  of  the 
heart,  "  you  have  not  come  to  take  her  away?" 

"This  letter  will  explain  my  object  in  visiting 
you,"  said  the  woman,  drawing  a  sealed  envelope 
from  a  bag  which  she  carried  in  her  hand. 

The  cooper's  wife  nervously  broke  open  the  letter, 
and  read  as  follows :  — 

"MRS.  HARDING  :— Seven  years  ago  last  New 
Year's  night,  a  child  was  left  on  your  door-steps,  with 
a  note  containing  a  request  that  you  would  care  for  it 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  123 

kindly  as  your  own.  Money  was  sent  at  the  same 
time  to  defray  the  expenses  of  such  care.  The  writer 
of  this  note  is  the  mother  of  the  child  Ida.  There  is 
no  need  to  explain  here  why  I  sent  away  the  child 
from  me.  You  will  easily  understand  that  it  was  not 
done  willingly,  and  that  only  the  most  imperative 
necessity  would  have  led  me  to  such  a  step.  The 
same  necessity  still  prevents  me  from  reclaiming  my 
child,  and  I  am  content  still  to  leave  Ida  in  your 
charge.  Yet  there  is  one  thing  I  desire.  You  will 
understand  a  mother's  wish  to  see,  face  to  face,  her 
own  child.  With  this  view  I  have  come  to  this 
neighborhood.  I  will  not  say  where  I  am,  for  con- 
cealment is  necessary  to  me.  I  send  this  note  by  a 
trustworthy  attendant,  Mrs.  Hardwick,  my  little 
Ida's  nurse  in  her  infancy,  who  will  conduct  Ida  to 
me,  and  return  her  again  to  you.  Ida  is  not  to  know 
who  she  is  visiting.  No  doubt  she  believes  you  to 
be  her  mother,  and  it  is  well  that  she  should  so  re- 
gard you.  Tell  her  only  that  it  is  a  lady,  who  takes 
an  interest  in  her,  and  that  will  satisfy  her  childish 
curiosity.  I  make  this  request  as 

"  IDA'S  MOTHER." 


124  JACK'S  WARD;  OB, 

Mrs.  Harding  read  this  letter  with  mingled  feelings. 
Pity  for  the  writer ;  a  vague  curiosity  in  regard  to 
the  mysterious  circumstances  which  had  compelled 
her  to  resort  to  such  a  step ;  a  half  feeling  of 
jealousy,  that  there  should  be  one  who  had  a  claim 
to  her  dear,  adopted  daughter,  superior  to  her  own ; 
and  a  strong  feeling  of  relief  at  the  assurance  that 
Ida  was  not  to  be  permanently  removed,  —  all  these 
feelings  affected  the  cooper's  wife. 

"  So  you  were  Ida's  nurse?"  she  said,  gently. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  the  stranger.  "I  hope  the 
dear  child  is  well?" 

"Perfectly  well.  How  much  her  mother  must 
have  suffered  from  the  separation ! " 

11  Indeed  you  may  say  so,  ma'am.  It  came  near  to 
break  her  heart." 

"  I  don't  wonder,"  said  sympathizing  Mrs.  Hard- 
ing. "I  can  judge  of  that  by  my  own  feelings.  I 
don't  know  what  I  should  do,  if  Ida  were  to  be  taken 
from  me." 

At  this  point  in  the  conversation,  the  cooper 
entered  the  house.  He  had  come  home  on  an 
errand. 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  125 

4 '  It  is  my  husband,"  said  Mrs  Harding,  turning  to 
her  visitor,  by  way  of  explanation.  "  Timothy,  will 
you  come  here  a  moment  ?  " 

The  cooper  regarded  the  stranger  with  some  sur 
prise.  His  wife  hastened  to  introduce  her  as  Mrs. 
Hardwick,  Ida's  old  nurse,  and  placed  in  her  hus- 
band's hands  the  letter  which  we  have  already 
read. 

He  was  not  a  rapid  reader,  and  it  took  him  some 
time  to  get  through  the  letter.  He  laid  it  down  on 
his  knee,  and  looked  thoughtful. 

"  This  is  indeed  unexpected,"  he  said,  at  last.  "  It 
is  a  new  development  in  Ida's  history.  May  I  ask, 
Mrs.  Hardwick,  if  you  have  any  further  proof.  I 
want  to  be  careful  about  a  child  that  I  love  as  my 
own.  Can  you  furnish  any  other  proof  that  you 
are  what  you  represent?" 

"  I  judged  that  the  letter  would  be  sufficient. 
Doesn't  it  speak  of  me  as  the  nurse  ?  " 

"  True ;  but  how  can  we  be  sure  that  the  writer  is 
Ida's  mother?" 

"  The  tone  of  the  letter,  sir.  Would  anybody  else 
write  like  that?" 


126  JACE?S  WARD;  OB, 

"Then  you  have  read  the  letter?"  asked  the 
cooper,  quickly. 

"  It  was  read  to  me  before  I  set  out." 

"By  whom?" 

"  By  Ida's  mother.  I  do  not  blame  you  for  your 
caution,"  said  the  visitor.  "You  must  be  deeply 
interested  in  the  happiness  of  the  dear  child,  of  whom 
you  have  taken  such  excellent  care.  I  don't  mind 
telling  you  that  I  was  the  one  who  left  her  at  your 
door,  seven  years  ago,  and  that  I  never  left  the 
neighborhood  until  I  saw  you  take  her  in." 

"  And  it  was  this  that  enabled  you  to  find  the 
house  to-day  ?  " 

"You  forget,"  corrected  the  nurse,  "that  you 
were  not  then  living  in  this  house,  but  in  another, 
some  rods  off,  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  street." 

"You  are  right,"  said  Timothy.  "  I  am  inclined 
to  believe  in  the  truth  of  your  story.  You  must  par- 
don my  testing  you  in  such  a  manner,  but  I  was  not 
willing  to  yield  up  Ida,  even  for  a  little  time,  without 
feeling  confident  of  the  hands  she  was  falling  into." 

"You  are  right,"  said  Mrs.  Hardwick.     "I  don't 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  127 

blame  you  in  the  least.  I  shall  report  it  to  Ida's 
mother  as  a  proof  of  your  attachment  to  the  child." 

"When  do  you  wish  Ida  to  go  with  you?"  asked 
Mrs.  Harding. 

"  Can  you  let  her  go  this  afternoon?  " 

"Why,"  said  the  cooper's  wife,  hesitating,  "I 
should  like  to  have  a  chance  to  wash  out  some 
clothes  for  her.  I  want  her  to  appear  as  neat  as 
possible  when  she  meets  her  mother." 

The  nurse  hesitated,  but  presently  replied,  "  I 
don't  wish  to  hurry  you.  If  you  will  let  me  know 
when  she  will  be  ready,  I  will  call  for  her." 

"I  think  I  can  get  her  ready  early  to-morrow 
morning." 

"  That  will  answer.    I  will  call  for  her  then." 

The  nurse  rose,  and  gathered  her  shawl  about  her. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Mrs.  Hard  wick?"  asked 
the  cooper's  wife. 

"  To  a  hotel,"  was  the  reply. 

"We  cannot  allow  that,"  said  Mrs.  Harding, 
kindly.  "It's  a  pity  if  we  cannot  accommodate 
Ida's  old  nurse  for  one  night,  or  ten  times  as  long, 
for  that  matter." 


128  JACE?S  WARD;  OB, 

"  My  wife  is  quite  right,"  said  the  cooper,  hesitat- 
ingly. "  We  must  insist  on  your  stopping  with  us." 

The  nurse  hesitated,  and  looked  irresolute.  It 
was  plain  she  would  have  preferred  to  be  elsewhere, 
but  a  remark  which  Mrs.  Harding  made,  decided  her 
to  accept  the  invitation. 

It  was  this :  "  You  know,  Mrs.  Hardwick,  if  Ida 
is  to  go  with  you,  she  ought  to  have  a  little  chance  to 
get  acquainted  with  you  before  you  go." 

"I  will  accept  your  kind  invitation,"  she  said; 
44  but  I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  in  your  way." 

"  Not  in  the  least.  It  will  be  a  pleasure  to  us  to 
have  you  here.  If  you  will  excuse  me  now,  I  will  go 
out  and  attend  to  my  dinner,  which  I  am  afraid  is 
getting  behindhand." 

Left  to  herself,  the  nurse  behaved  in  a  manner 
which  might  be  regarded  as  singular.  She  rose  from 
her  seat,  and  approached  the  mirror.  She  took  a  full 
survey  of  herself  as  she  stood  there,  and  laughed  a 
short,  hard  laugh.  Then  she  made  a  formal  cour- 
tesy to  her  own  reflection,  saying,  "  How  do  you  do, 
Mrs.  Hardwick?" 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  129 

"Did  you  speak?"  asked  the  cooper,  who  was 
passing  through  the  entry  on  his  way  out. 

"•No,"  answered  the  nurse,  rather  awkwardly. 
"  I  may  have  said  something  to  myself.  It's  of  no 
consequence." 

"  Somehow,"  thought  the  cooper,  "  I  don't  fancy 
the  woman's  looks  ;  but  I  dare  say  I  am  prejudiced. 
We're  all  of  us  as  God  made  us." 

When  Mrs.  Harding  was  making  preparations  for 
the  noon-day  meal,  she  imparted  to  Rachel  the  aston- 
ishing information  which  has  already  been  detailed  to 
the  reader. 

"I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it,"  said  Rachel,  reso- 
lutely. "  The  woman's  an  impostor.  I  knew  she 
was,  the  very  minute  I  set  eyes  on  her." 

This  remark  was  so  characteristic  of  Rachel,  that 
her  sister-in-law  did  not  attach  any  special  importance 
to  it.  Rachel,  of  course,  had  no  grounds  for  the 
opinion  she  so  confidently  expressed.  It  was  con- 
sistent, however,  with  her  general  estimate  of  human 
nature. 

"  What  object  could  she  have  in  inventing  such  a 
story?  "  asked  Mrs.  Harding. 


130  JACK'S  WARD;  OB, 

"What  object?  Hundreds  of  'em,"  said  Rachel, 
rather  indefinitely.  "  Mark  my  words ;  if  you  let  her 
carry  off  Ida,  it'll  be  the  last  you'll  ever  see  of  her." 

"  Try  to  look  on  the  bright  side,  Rachel.  Nothing 
is  more  natural  than  that  her  mother  should  want  to 
see  her." 

"Why  couldn't  she  come  herself?"  muttered 
Rachel. 

"  The  letter  explains." 

"  I  don't  see  that  it  does." 

"It  says  that  same  reasons  exist  for  concealment 
as  ever." 

"And  what  are  they,  I  should  like  to  know?  I 
don't  like  mysteries,  for  my  part." 

"We  won't  quarrel  with  them,  at  any  rate,  since 
they  enable  us  to  keep  Ida  with  us." 

Aunt  Rachel  shook  her  head,  as  if  she  were  far 
from  satisfied. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Harding,"  "but  I 
ought  to  invite  Mrs.  Hardwick  in  here.  I  have  left 
her  alone  in  the  front  room." 

"I  don't  want  to  see  her,"  said  Rachel.  Then, 
changing  her  mind  suddenly,  "Yes,  you  may  bring 


THE  EOT  GUARDIAN.  131 

her  in.    Til  soon  find  out  whether  she's  an  impostoi 
or  not." 

The  cooper's  wife  returned  with  the  nurse. 

"Mrs.  Hardwick,"  she  said,  "this  is  my  sister, 
Miss  Rachel  Harding." 

"I  am  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance,  ma'am/* 
said  the  visitor. 

"  Rachel,  I  will  leave  you  to  entertain  Mrs.  Hard- 
wick,  while  I  get  ready  the  dinner." 

Rachel  and  the  nurse  eyed  each  other  with  mutual 
dislike. 

"  I  hope  you  don't  expect  me  to  entertain  you," 
said  Rachel.  "  I  never  expect  to  entertain  anybody 
ag'in.  This  is  a  world  of  trial  and  tribulation,  and 
I've  had  my  share.  So  you've  come  after  Ida,  I 
hear?"  with  a  sudden  change  of  tone. 

"  At  her  mother's  request,"  said  the  nurse. 

"  She  wants  to  see  her,  then?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"I  wonder  she  didn't  think  of  it  before,"  said 
Rachel,  sharply.  "  She's  good  at  wailing.  She's 
waited  seven  years." 


132  JActfs  WARD;  OB, 

44  There  are  circumstances    that  cannot    be    ex- 
plained," commenced  the  nurse. 

"No,  I  dare  say  not,"  said  Kachel,  drily.     "  So 
you  were  her  nurse  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  answered  the  nurse,  who  did  not 
appear  to  enjoy  this  cross-examination. 

"  Have  you  lived  with  Ida's  mother  ever  since?" 

"No, — yes,"  stammered  the  stranger.  "Some 
of  the  time,"  she  added,  recovering  herself. 

"  Umph !  "  grunted  Rachel,  darting  a  sharp  glance 
at  her. 

"Have  you  a  husband  living?"  inquired  the  spin- 
ster. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Hardwick.     "  Have  you?  " 

"I!"  repeated  Rachel,  scornfully.  "No,  neither 
living  nor  dead.  I'm  thankful  to  say  I  never  mar- 
ried. I've  had  trials  enough  without  that.  Does 
Ida's  mother  live  in  the  city  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell  you,"  said  the  nurse. 

"  Humph,  I  don't  like  mystery." 
"  It  isn't  any  mystery,"  said  the  visitor.     "  If  you 
have  any  objections  to  make,  you  must  make  them  to 
Ida's  mother." 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  133 

"  So  I  will,  if  you'll  tell  me  where  she  lives." 

"  I  can't  do  that." 

"Where  do  you  live  yourself?"  inquired  Kachel, 
shifting  her  point  of  attack. 

"In  Brooklyn,"  answered  Mrs.  Hardwick,  with 
some  hesitation. 

"What  street,  and  number?" 
.  "Why  do  you  want    to    know?"    inquired    the 
nurse. 

"  You  aint  ashamed  to  tell,  be  you?  " 

"Why  should  I  be?" 

"  I  don't  know.     You'd  orter  know  better  than  I.* 

"  It  wouldn't  do  you  any  good  to  know,"  said  the 
nurse.  "  I  don't  care  about  receiving  visitors." 

"  I  don't  want  to  visit  you,  I  am  sure,"  said 
Kachel,  tossing  her  head. 

"  Then  }rou  don't  need  to  know  where  I  live." 

Kachel  left  the  room,  and  sought  her  sister-in-law. 

"That  woman's  an  impostor,"  she  said.  "She 
won't  tell  where  she  lives.  I  shouldn't  be  surprised 
if  she  turns  out  to  be  a  thief." 

"  You  haven't  any  reason  for  supposing  that, 
Rachel." 


134  JACI?S  WARD;  GJZ, 

"  Wait  and  see,"  said  Rachel.     "  Of  course  I  don't 

expect  you  to  pay  any  attention  to  what  I  say.    I 

haven't  any  influence  in  this  house." 

"Now,  Rachel,  you  have  no  cause  to  say  that." 
But  Rachel  was  not  to  be  appeased.    It  pleased 

her  to  be  considered  a  martyr,  and  at  such  times 

there  was  little  use  in  arguing  with  her. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  185 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

PREPARING  FOR  A   JOURNEY. 

LATER  in  the  day,  Ida  returned  from  school.  She 
bounded  into  the  room,  as  usual,  but  stopped  short  in 
some  confusion,  on  seeing  a  stranger. 

"  Is  this  my  own  dear  child,  over  whose  infancy  I 
watched  so  tenderly?"  exclaimed  the  nurse,  rising, 
her  harsh  features  wreathed  into  a  smile. 

"  It  is  Ida,"  said  the  cooper's  wife. 

Ida  looked  from  one  to  the  other  in  silent  bewilder- 
ment. 

4 'Ida,"  said  Mrs.  Harding,  in  a  little  embarrass- 
ment, "  this  is  Mrs.  Hardwick,  who  took  care  of  you 
when  you  were  an  infant." 

"  But  I  thought  you  took  care  of  me,  mother," 
said  Ida,  in  surprise. 

44  Very  true,"  said  Mrs.  Harding,  evasively ;  "  but 
I  was  not  able  to  have  the  care  of  you  all  the  time. 
Didn't  I  ever  mention  Mrs.  Hardwick  to  you?" 


136  JActfs  WARD;  OB, 

« <  No,  mother." 

"  Although  it  is  so  long  since  I  have  seen  her,  1 
should  have  known  her  anywhere,"  said  the  nurse, 
applying  a  handkerchief  to  her  eyes.  "  So  pretty  as 
ehe's  grown  up,  too  ! " 

Mrs.  Harding  glanced  with  pride  at  the  beautiful 
child,  who  blushed  at  the  compliment,  a  rare  one,  for 
her  adopted  mother,  whatever  she  might  think,  did 
not  approve  of  openly  praising  her  appearance. 

"  Ida,"  said  Mrs.  Hardwick,  **  won't  you  come  and 
kiss  your  old  nurse  ?  " 

Ida  looked  at  her  hard  face,  which  now  wore  a 
smile  intended  to  express  aflection.  Without  know- 
ing why,  she  felt  an  instinctive  repugnance  to  this 
stranger,  notwithstanding  her  words  of  endear- 
ment. 

She  advanced  timidly,  with  a  reluctance  which  she 
was  not  wholly  able  to  conceal,  and  passively  sub- 
mitted to  a  caress  from  the  nurse. 

There  was  a  look  in  the  eyes  of  the  nurse,  carefully 
guarded,  yet  not  wholly  concealed,  which  showed 
that  she  was  quite  aware  of  Ida's  feeling  towards  her, 
and  resented  it.  But  whether  or  not  she  was  playing 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  137 

a  part,  she  did  not  betray  this  feeling  openly,  but 
pressed  the  unwilling  child  more  closely  to  her 
bosom 

Ida  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  when  she  was  re- 
leased, and  moved  quietly  away,  wondering  what  it 
was  that  made  the  woman  so  disagreeable  to  her. 

"  Is  my  nurse  a  good  woman?"  she  asked,  thought- 
fully, when  alone  with  Mrs,  Harding,  who  was  set- 
ting the  table  for  dinner. 

"A  good  woman!  What  makes  you  ask  that?" 
queried  her  adopted  mother,  in  surprise. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Ida. 

"I  don't  know  anything  to  indicate  that  she  is 
otherwise,"  said  Mrs.  Harding.  "  And,  by  the  way, 
Ida,  she  is  going  to  take  you  on  a  little  excursion 
to-morrow." 

"  She  going  to  take  me  ! "  exclaimed  Ida.  "  Why, 
where  are  we  going?  " 

44  On  a  little  pleasure-trip ;  and  perhaps  she  may 
introduce  you  to  a  pleasant  lady,  who  has  already 
become  interested  in  you,  from  what  she  has  told 
her." 


188  JACE*S  WARD;  OR, 

"What  could  she  say  of  me?"  inquired  Ida. 
•"  She  has  not  seen  me  since  I  was  a  baby." 

"Why,"  answered  the  cooper's  wife,  a  little  puz- 
zled, "she  appears  to  have  thought  of  you  ever 
eince,  with  a  good  deal  of  affection." 

"  Is  it  wicked,"  asked  Ida,  after  a  pause,  "  not  to 
like  those  who  like  us  ?  " 

"  What  makes  you  ask?" 

"Because,  somehow  or  other,  I  don't  like  this 
Mrs.  Hardwick,  at  all,  for  all  she  was  my  old  nurse, 
and  I  don't  believe  I  ever  shall." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  will,"  said  Mrs.  Harding,  "  when 
you  find  she  is  exerting  herself  to  give  you  pleasure." 

"Am  I  going  with  her  to-morrow  morning?" 

"  Yes.  She  wanted  you  to  go  to-day,  but  your 
clothes  were  not  in  order." 

"  We  shall  come  back  at  night,  sha'n't  we?" 

"  I  presume  so." 

"I  hope  we  shall,"  said  Ida,  decidedly,  "  and  that 
she  won't  want  me  to  go  with  her  again." 

"Perhaps  you  will  feel  differently  when  it  is  over, 
and  you  find  you  have  enjoyed  yourself  better  than 
you  anticipated." 


THE  BOY   GUARDIAN.  139 

Mrs.  Harding  exerted  herself  to  fit  Ida  up  as  neatly 
as  possible,  and  when  at  length  she  was  got  ready, 
she  thought  with  sudden  fear,  "  Perhaps  her  mother 
will  not  be  willing  to  part  with  her  again." 

When  Ida  was  ready  to  start,  there  came  upon  all 
a  little  shadow  of  depression,  as  if  the  child  were  to 
be  separated  from  them  for  a  year,  and  not  for  a  day 
only.  Perhaps  this  was  only  natural,  since  even  this 
latter  term,  however  brief,  was  longer  than  they  had 
been  parted  from  her  since,  in  her  infancy,  she  had 
been  left  at  their  door. 

The  nurse  expressly  desired  that  none  of  the  family 
should  accompany  her,  as  she  declared  it  highly  im- 
portant, that  the  whereabouts  of  Ida's  mother  should 
not  be  known. 

"  Of  course,"  she  added,  "  after  Ida  returns,  she 
can  tell  you  what  she  pleases.  Then  it  will  be  of  no 
consequence,  for  her  mother  will  be  gone.  She  does 
not  live  in  this  neighborhood.  She  has  onty  come 
here  to  see  her  child." 

11  Shall  you  bring  her  back  to-night?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Harding. 

"  I  may  keep  her  till  to-morrow,"  said  the  nurse. 


140  JActfs  WARD;  o*, 

"  After  seven  years'  absence  her  mother  will  think 
that  short  enough." 

To  this,  Mrs.  Harding  agreed,  though  she  felt  that 
she  should  miss  Ida,  though  absent  but  twenty-four 
hours. 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  141 


CHAPTER    XV. 

THE  JOUBNET. 

THE  nurse  walked  as  far  as  Broadway,  holding  Ida 
by  the  hand. 

"Where  are  we  going?"  asked  the  child,  timidly. 
11  Are  you  going  to  walk  all  the  way?  " 

4 'No,"  said  the  nurse ;  "  not  all  the  way  —  perhaps 
a  mile.  You  can  walk  as  far  as  that,  can't  you?  " 

"Oh,  yes." 

They  walked  on  till  they  reached  the  ferry  at  the 
foot  of  Courtland  Street. 

"Did  you  ever  ride  in  a  steamboat?"  asked  the 
nurse  in  a  tone  meant  to  be  gracious. 

"Once  or  twice,"  answered  Ida.  "I  went  with 
brother  Jack  once,  over  to  Hoboken.  Are  we  going 
there  now?" 

"No;  we  are  going  to  the  city  you  see  over  the 
water." 

"  What  place  is  it  ?    Is  it  Brooklyn  ?  * 


142  JACK'S  WARD;  o&, 

"  No ;  it  is  Jersey  City." 

"  Oh,  that  will  be  pleasant,"  said  Ida,  forgetting, 
in  her  childish  love  of  novelty,  the  repugnance  with 
which  the  nurse  had  inspired  her. 

"Yes,  and  that  is  not  all;  we  are  going  still  fur- 
ther," said  the  nurse. 

"  Are  we  going  further?  "  asked  Ida  in  excitement. 
"  Where  are  we  going?" 

"  To  a  town  on  the  line  of  the  railroad." 

"  And  shall  we  ride  in  the  cars? "  asked  Ida  with 
animation. 

"  Yes  ;  didn't  you  ever  ride  in  the  cars?  " 

"  No,  never." 

"  I  think  you  will  like  it." 

"  Oh,  I  know  I  shall.    How  fast  do  the  cars  go?" 

u  Oh,  a  good  many  miles  an  hour  —  maybe  thirty." 

"  And  how  long  will  it  take  us  to  go  to  the  place 
you  are  going  to  carry  me  to  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  exactly ;  perhaps  three  hours." 

"  Three  whole  hours  in  the  cars ! "  exclaimed  Ida. 
"  How  much  I  shall  have  to  tell  father  and  Jack  when 
I  get  back!" 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  143 

"  So  you  will,"  replied  Mrs.  Hardwick,  with  an 
unaccountable  smile,  —  "  when  you  get  back." 

There  was  something  peculiar  in  her  tone,  but  Ida 
did  not  notice  it. 

Sc  Ida  was  already  enjoying  her  journey  more  than 
she  anticipated. 

She  was  allowed  to  sit  next  the  window  in  the  carsr 
and  took  great  pleasure  in  surveying  the  fields  and 
villages  through  which  they  were  rapidly  whirled. 

"Are  we  most  there?"  she  asked,  after  riding 
about  two  hours. 

"  It  won't  be  long,"  said  the  nurse. 

4 'We  must  have  come  ever  so  many  miles,"  said 
Ida. 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  good  ways." 

An  hour  more  passed,  and  still  there  was  no  sign 
of  reaching  their  journey's  end.  Both  Ida  and  her 
companion  began  to  feel  hungry. 

The  nurse  beckoned  to  her  side  a  boy,  who  was 
going  through  the  cars  selling  apples  and  cakes,  and 
inquired  the  price. 

"  The  apples  are  two  cents  apiece,  ma'am,  and  the 
cakes  are  one  cent  each." 


144  JACX'S  WARD;  OB, 

Ida,  who  had  been  looking  out  of  the  window, 
turned  suddenly  round,  and  exclaimed,  in  great 
astonishment,  "  Why  Charlie  Fitts,  is  that  you?  " 

"Why,  Ida,  where  did  you  come  from?"  asked 
the  boy,  with  a  surprise  equalling  her  own. 

The  nurse  bit  her  lips  in  vexation  at  this  unex- 
pected recognition. 

"  I'm  making  a  little  journey  with  this  lady,"  said 
Ida. 

"  So  you're  going  to  Philadelphia?"  said  Charlie. 

"  To  Philadelphia ! "  repeated  Ida,  surprised. 
"  Not  that  I  know  of." 

"  Why,  you're  'most  there  now." 

"  Are  we,  Mrs.  Hardwick?"  inquired  Ida,  looking 
up  into  her  companion's  face. 

"It  isn't  far  from  where  we're  going,"  she  an- 
swered shortly.  "  Boy,  I'll  take  two  of  your  apples, 
and  four  cakes.  And  now  you'd  better  go  along,  for 
there's  somebody  over  there  that  looks  as  if  he 
wanted  to  buy  something." 

Charlie  looked  as  if  he  would  like  to  question  Ida 
further,  but  her  companion  looked  forbidding,  and  he 
passed  on  reluctantly. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  145 

"  Who  is  that  boy?"  asked  the  nurse,  abruptly. 

"  His  name  is  Charlie  Fitts." 

"  Where  did  you  get  acquainted  with  him?" 

"  He  went  to  school  with  Jack,  so  I  used  to  see 
him  sometimes." 

4 'With  Jack?" 

"  Yes,  brother  Jack.     Don't  you  know  him?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  forgot.  So  he's  a  school-mate  of 
Jack,  is  he?" 

"  Yes,  and  he's  a  first-rate  boy,"  said  Ida,  with 
whom  the  young  car-merchant  was  evidently  a  favor- 
ite. "He's  good  to  his  mother.  You  see,  his 
mother  is  sick  most  of  the  time,  and  can't  work 
much;  and  he's  got  a  little  sister — she  aint  more 
than  four  or  five  years  old  —  and  Charlie  supports 
them  by  selling  things.  He's  only  sixteen  years  old ; 
isn't  he  a  smart  boy  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  nurse,  indifferently. 

"Sometime,"  continued  Ida,  "I  hope  I  shall  be 
able  to  earn  something  for  father  and  mother,  so  they 
won't  be  obliged  to  work  so  hard." 

"  What  could  you  do?"  asked  the  nurse,  curiously. 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  can  do  much  yet,"  answered 
10 


146  JACK'S  WARD;  o*? 

Ida,  modestly ;  "  but  perhaps  when  I  am  older  I  can 
draw  pictures  that  people  will  buy." 

"  Do  you  know  how  to  draw?" 

"  Yes :  I've  been  taking  lessons  for  over  a  year." 

"How  do  you  like  it?" 

"  Oh !  ever  so  much.  I  like  it  much  better  than 
music." 

"  Do  you  know  anything  of  that?  " 

"  Yes.     I  can  play  a  few  easy  pieces." 

Mrs.  Hardwick  looked  surprised,  and  regarded  her 
young  charge  with  curiosity. 

"  Have  you  got  any  of  your  drawings  with  you?" 
she  asked. 

"  No,  I  didn't  bring  any." 

"I  wish  you  had.  The  lady  we  are  going  to  see 
would  have  liked  to  see  some  of  them." 

"  Are  we  going  to  see  a  lady  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  didn't  your  mother  tell  you?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  she  said  something  about  a  lady 
that  was  interested  in  me." 

"That's  the  one." 

"Where  does  she  live?  When  shall  we  get 
there?" 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  147 

"  We  shall  get  there  before  long." 

44  And  shall  we  come  back  to  New  York  to-night?** 

44  No ;  it  wouldn't  leave  us  any  time  to  stay.  Be- 
sides, I  feel  tired,  and  want  to  rest ;  don't  you  ?  " 

"  I  do  feel  a  little  tired,"  acknowledged  Ida. 

"West  Philadelphia!"  announced  the  conductor,, 
as  the  train  ran  into  a  long  depot. 

44  We  have  arrived,"  said  the  nurse.  "  Keep  close 
to  me,  or  you  may  get  lost.  Perhaps  you  had  better 
take  hold  of  my  hand." 

As  they  were  making  their  way  slowly  through  the 
crowd,  the  young  apple-merchant  came  up  with  Ms- 
basket  on  his  arm. 

44  When  are  you  going  back,  Ida?  "  he  asked. 

uMrs.  Hardwick  says  we  sha'n't  go  back  till 
to-morrow." 

44  Come,  Ida,"  said  the  nurse,  sharply.  "I  can't 
have  you  stopping  all  day  to  talk.  We  must  hurry 
along." 

44  Good-by,  Charlie,"  said  Ida.  "  If  you  see  Jackr 
just  tell  him  you  saw  me." 

44  Yes,  I  will,"  was  the  reply. 

44 1  wonder  who  that  woman  is  with  Ida?"  though! 


148  JACK'S  WARD;  O.R, 

the  boy.  "I  don't  like  her  looks  much.  I  wonder 
if  she's  any  relation  of  Mr.  Harding.  She  looks 
about  as  pleasant  as  Aunt  Rachel." 

The  last-mentioned  lady  would  hardly  have  felt 
flattered  at  the  comparison. 

Ida  looked  about  her  with  curiosity.  There  was  a 
novel  sensation  in  being  in  a  new  place,  particularly 
a  city  of  which  she  had  heard  so  much  as  Philadel- 
phia. As  far  back  as  she  could  remember,  she  had 
never  left  New  York,  except  for  a  brief  excursion  to 
Hoboken ;  and  one  Fourth  of  July  was  made  memor- 
able by  a  trip  to  Staten  Island,  under  the  guardian- 
ship of  Jack. 

"  Is  this  Philadelphia?"  she  inquired. 

"  Yes,"  said  her  companion,  shortly. 

"  How  far  is  it  from  New  York?  " 

"  I  don't  know ;  a  hundred  miles,  more  or  less." 

"  A  hundred  miles !  "  repeated  Ida,  awe-struck  ;  for 
to  her  it  seemed  an  immense  distance.  "  Am  I  a 
hundred  miles  from  father,  and  mother,  and  Jack, 
and  —  and  Aunt  Eachel  ?  " 

The  last  name  was  mentioned  rather  as  an  after- 
thought, as  if  Ida  felt  it  an  act  of  duty  to  include  the 


THE   SOT  GUAEDIAN.  149 

melancholy  spinster,  who  certainly  had  never  erred  in 
the  way  of  over-indulgence  to  our  heroine. 

"  Why,  yes,  of  course  you  are,"  replied  Mrs.  Hard- 
wick,  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone.  "Here,  get  into  this 
car." 

They  entered  a  horse-car  just  outside  the  depot, 
and  rode  probably  a  mile. 

"  We  get  out  here,"  said  the  nurse.  "  Take  care, 
or  you'll  get  run  over.  Now  turn  down  here." 

They  entered  a  narrow  and  dirty  street,  with  un- 
sightly houses  on  each  side. 

"  This  aint  a  very  nice  looking  street,"  said  Ida, 
looking  about  her. 

"Why  isn't  it?"  demanded  her  companion, 
roughly. 

"Why,  it's  narrow,  and  the  houses  don't  look 
nice." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that  house  there?"  asked 
Mrs.  Hardwick,  pointing  to  a  dilapidated-looking 
structure  on  the  right-hand  side  of  the  street. 

"I  shouldn't  like  to  live  there,"  answered  Ida, 
after  a  brief  survey. 


150  JACE?S  WARD;  ox, 

"  You  wouldn't,  hey?  You  don't  like  it  so  well  as 
the  house  you  live  in  in  New  York  ?  " 

"No,  not  half  so  well." 

The  nurse  smiled. 

"Wouldn't  you  like  to  go  in,  and  look  at  the 
house  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Go  in  and  look  at  the  house?"  repeated  Ida. 
"Why  should  we?" 

"You  must  know  there  are  some  poor  families 
living  there  that  I  am  interested  in,"  said  Mrs.  Hard- 
wick,  who  appeared  amused  at  something.  "Didn't 
your  mother  ever  tell  you  that  it  is  our  duty  to  help 
the  poor?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  but  won't  it  be  late  before  we  get  to  the 
lady?" 

"  No,  there's  plenty  of  time.  You  needn't  be 
afraid  of  that.  There's  a  poor  man  living  in  this 
house  that  I've  made  a  good  many  clothes  for,  first 
and  last,"  proceeded  the  nurse. 

"  He  must  be  much  obliged  to  you,"  said  Ida, 
thinking  that  Mrs.  Hardwick  was  a  better  woman 
than  she  had  given  her  credit  for. 

"  We're  going  up  to  see  him  now,"  said  her  com- 


THE  BOY   GUARDIAN.  151 

pardon.     "  Take  care  of   that    hole  in  the    stairs. 

Here  we  are." 

Somewhat  to  Ida's  surprise,  her  guide,  on  reaching 
the  first  landing,  opened  a  door  without  the  ceremony 
of  knocking,  and  revealed  a  poor,  untidy  room,  in 
which  a  coarse,  unshaven  man  was  sitting,  in  his 
shirt-sleeves,  smoking  a  pipe. 

"  Hallo !  "  exclaimed  this  individual,  jumping  up 
suddenly.  "  So  you've  got  along,  old  woman!  Is 
that  the  gal?" 

Ida  stared  from  one  to  the  other  in  unaffected 
amazement. 


152  JActfs  WARD; 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

UNEXPECTED    QUARTERS. 

THE  appearance  of  the  man  whom  Mrs.  Hardwick 
addressed  so  familiarly  was  more  picturesque  than 
pleasing.  He  had  a  large,  broad  face,  which,  not 
having  been  shaved  for  a  week,  looked  like  a  wilder- 
ness of  stubble.  His  nose  indicated  habitual  indul- 
gence in  alcoholic  beverages.  His  eyes,  likewise, 
were  bloodshot,  and  his  skin  looked  coarse  and 
blotched;  his  coat  was  thrown  aside,  displaying  a 
shirt  which  bore  evidence  of  having  been  useful  in  its 
day  and  generation.  The  same  remark  may  apply 
to  his  nether  integuments,  which  were  ventilated  at 
each  knee,  indicating  a  most  praiseworthy  regard  to 
the  laws  of  health. 

He  was  sitting  in  a  chair  pitched  back  against  the 
wall,  with  his  feet  resting  on  another,  and  he  had  a 
short  Dutch  pipe  in  his  mouth,  from  which  dense  vol- 
umes of  smoke  were  pouring. 


THE  EOT  GUARDIAN.  153 

Ida  thought  she  had  never  seen  so  disgusting  a 
man.  She  continued  to  gaze  at  him,  half  in  aston- 
ishment, half  in  terror,  till  the  object  of  her  attention 
exclaimed,  — 

"Well,  little  gal,  what  you're  lookin'  at?  Hain't 
you  never  seen  a  gentleman  before  ?  " 

Ida  clung  the  closer  to  her  companion,  who,  she 
was  surprised  to  find,  did  not  resent  the  man's  famil- 
iarity. 

"  Well,  Dick,  how*ve  you  got  along  since  I've  been 
gone?"  asked  the  nurse,  to  Ida's  unbounded  aston- 
ishment. 

"Oh,  so  so." 

"  Have  you  felt  lonely  any?" 

"  I've  had  good  company." 

"Who's  been  here?" 

Dick  pointed  significantly  to  a  jug  which  stood 
beside  him. 

"  That's  the  best  company  I  know  of,"  he  said, 
"  but  it's  most  empty.  So  you've  brought  along  the 
gal,"  he  continued.  "How  did  you  get  hold  of 
her?" 

There  was  something  in  these  questions  which  tor 


154  jActfs  WARD;  ox, 

rifled  Ida.  It  seemed  to  indicate  a  degree  of  com- 
plicity between  these  two  which  boded  no  good  to  her. 

"I'll  tell  you  the  particulars  by  and  by,"  said  the 
woman,  looking  significantly  at  the  child's  expressive 
face. 

At  the  same  time  she  began  to  take  off  her  bonnet. 

"You  aint  going  to  stop,  are  you?"  asked  Ida, 
startled. 

"Aint  goin'  to  stop?"  repeated  the  man  called 
Dick.  "  Why  shouldn't  she  stop,  I'd  like  to  know? 
Aint  she  at  home  ?  " 

"  At  home  !  "  echoed  Ida,  apprehensively,  opening 
wide  her  eyes  in  astonishment. 

"  Yes,  ask  her." 

Ida  looked  inquiringly  at  Mrs.  Hardwick. 

"  You  might  as  well  take  off  your  things,"  said  the 
latter,  grimly.  "  We  aint  going  any  farther  to-day." 

"  And  where's  the  lady  you  said  you  were  going  to 
see?" 

"  The  one  that  was  interested  in  you?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  I'm  the  one,"  she  answered,  with  a  broad 
smile  and  a  glance  at  Dick. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  155 

*'  You  I "  repeated  the  child  in  dismay. 

"Yes." 

"  I  don't  want  to  stay  here,"  said  Ida,  becoming 
frightened. 

"  Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?  "  asked 
the  woman,  mockingly. 

"Will  you  take  me  back  early  to-morrow?" 
entreated  Ida. 

"  No,  I  don't  intend  to  take  you  back  at  all,"  said 
the  woman,  coolly. 

Ida  seemed  at  first  stupefied  with  astonishment  and 
terror.  Then,  actuated  by  a  sudden  desperate  im- 
pulse, she  ran  to  the  door,  and  had  got  it  partly 
open,  when  the  nurse  sprang  forward,  and  seizing 
her  by  the  arm,  pulled  her  violently  back. 

"  Where  are  you  going  in  such  a  hurry?"  she 
demanded,  sternly. 

"  Back  to  father  and  mother,"  answered  Ida, 
bursting  into  tears.  "  Oh,  why  did  you  bring  me 
here?" 

"I'll  tell  you  why,"  answered  Dick,  jocularly. 
"  You  §ee,  Ida,  we  aint  got  any  little  girl  to  love  us, 
and  so  we  got  you." 


156  JACK'S  WARD;  ox, 

"  But  I  don't  love  you,  and  I  never  shall,"  said 
Ida,  indignantly. 

4 'Now  don't  you  go  to  saying  that,"  said  Dick. 
44  You'll  break  my  heart,  you  naughty  girl,  and  then 
Peg  will  be  a  widow." 

To  give  due  effect  to  this  pathetic  speech,  Dick 
drew  out  a  tattered  red  handkerchief,  and  made  a 
great  demonstration  of  wiping  his  eyes. 

The  whole  scene  was  so  ludicrous,  that  Ida,  despite 
her  fears  and  disgust,  could  not  help  laughing  hyster- 
ically. She  recovered  herself  instantly,  and  said  im- 
ploringty,  "  Oh,  do  let  me  go,  and  father  will  pay 
you ;  I  know  he  will." 

uYou  really  think  he  would?"  said  Dick,  in  a 
tantalizing  tone. 

"Oh,  yes;  and  you'll  tell  her  to  take  me  back, 
won't  you?" 

"  No,  he  won't  tell  me  any  such  thing,"  said  Peg, 
gruffly ;  "  and  if  he  did,  I  wouldn't  do  it ;  so  you  may 
as  well  give  up  all  thoughts  of  that  first  as  last. 
You're  going  to  stay  here  ;  so  take  off  that  bonnet  of 
yours,  and  say  no  more  about  it." 


IDA  ATTEMPTS  TO  ESCAPE. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  157 

Ida  made  no  motion  towards  obeying  this  man- 
date. 

44  Then  1*11  do  it  for  you,"  said  Peg. 

She  roughly  untied  the  bonnet,  —  Ida  struggling 
vainly  in  opposition,  —  and  taking  this,  with  the 
shawl,  carried  them  to  a  closet,  in  which  she  placed 
them,  and  then,  locking  the  door,  deliberately  put 
the  key  in  her  pocket. 

"There,"  said  she,  grimly,  "I  guess  you're  safe 
for  the  present." 

"Aint  you  ever  going  to  carry  me  back?"  asked 
Ida,  wishing  to  know  the  worst. 

"  Some  years  hence  I  may  possibly,"  answered  the 
woman,  coolly.  "  We  want  you  here  for  the  present. 
Besides,  you're  not  sure  that  they  want  you  back." 

44  Not  want  me  back  again?  " 

44  That's  what  I  said.  How  do  you  know  but  your 
father  and  mother  sent  you  off  on  purpose  ?  They've 
been  troubled  with  you  long  enough,  and  now  they've 
bound  you  apprentice  to  me  till  you're  eighteen." 

44  It's  a  lie,"  said  Ida,  firmly.  44  They  didn't  send 
me  off,  and  you're  a  wicked  woman  to  tell  me  so." 

"  Hoity-toitv  I  "  said  the  woman,  pausing  and  look- 


158  JACK'S  WARD;  oj?, 

ing  menacingly  at  the  child.  "Is  that  the  way  yon 
dare  to  speak  to  me  ?  Have  you  anything  more  to 
say  before  I  whip  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Ida,  goaded  to  desperation.  "  I 
shall  complain  of  you  to  the  police,  just  as  soon  as  I 
get  a  chance,  and  they  will  put  you  in  jail  and  send 
me  home.  That  is  what  I  will  do." 

Mrs.  Hardwick  was  incensed,  and  somewhat 
startled  at  these  defiant  words.  It  was  clear  that  Ida 
was  not  going  to  be  a  meek,  submissive  child,  whom 
they  might  ill-treat  without  apprehension.  She  was 
decidedly  dangerous,  and  her  insubordination  must  be 
nipped  in  the  bud.  She  seized  Ida  roughly  by  the 
arm,  and  striding  with  her  to  the  closet  already 
spoken  of,  unlocked  it,  and,  rudely  pushing  her  inr 
locked  the  door  after  her. 

"  Stay  there  till  you  know  how  to  behave,"  she  said. 

"  She's  a  spunky  'un,"  remarked  Dick,  taking  the 
pipe  from  his  mouth. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  woman.  "  She  makes  more 
fuss  than  I  thought  she  would." 

"  How  did  you  manage  to  coine  it  over  her  family?  * 
inquired  Dick. 


THE  EOT  GUARDIAN. 

His  wife  gave  substantially  the  account  with  which 
the  reader  is  already  familiar. 

"Pretty  well  done,  old  woman!"  exclaimed  DickT 
approvingly.  "I  always  said  you  was  a  deep  'un. 
I  always  say,  if  Peg  can't  find  out  how  a  thing  is- 
to  be  done,  then  it  can't  be  done,  nohow." 

This  was  coarse  praise,  but  the  wife  seemed  grati- 
fied, and  her  grim  features  relaxed  into  a  smile. 

4 'How  about  the  counterfeit  coin?"  she  askedr 
after  a  pause. 

"  We're  to  be  supplied  with  all  we  can  put  off,  and 
we  are  to  have  half  for  our  trouble." 

uThat  is  good,"  said  the  woman,  thoughtfully. 
"When  the  girl  Ida  gets  a  little  tamed  down,  we'll 
give  her  something  to  do." 

' « Is  it  safe  ?    Won't  she  betray  us  ?  " 

"  We'll  manage  that,  or  at  least  I  will.  I'll  work 
on  her  fears,  so  she  won't  any  more  dare  to  say  a 
word  about  us  than  to  cut  her  own  head  off." 

"All  right,  Peg.  I  can  trust  you  to  do  whatfa 
right." 

Ida  sank  down  on  the  floor  of  the  closet  into  which 
she  had  been  thrust.  Utter  darkness  was  around  herr 


160  JACK'S  WARD;  OJB, 

and  a  darkness  as  black  seemed  to  hang  over  all  her 
prospects  of  future  happiness.  She  had  been 
snatched  in  a  moment  from  parents,  or  those  whom 
she  regarded  as  such,  and  from  a  comfortable  and 
happy,  though  humble  home,  to  this  dismal  place. 
In  place  of  the  kindness  and  indulgence  to  which  she 
had  been  accustomed,  she  was  now  treated  with 
harshness  and  cruelty.  What  wonder  that  her  heart 
desponded,  and  that  her  tears  of  childish  sorrow 
flowed  freely  ? 


THE   EOT  GUARDIAN.  161 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

SUSPENSE. 

"  IT  doesn't,  somehow,  seem  natural,"  said  the 
cooper,  as  he  took  his  seat  at  the  tea-table,  "  to  sit 
down  without  Ida.  It  seems  as  if  half  the  family 
were  gone." 

"Just  what  I've  said  to  myself  twenty  times  to- 
day," remarked  his  wife.  "  Nobody  can  tell  how 
much  a  child  is  to  them  till  they  lose  it." 

"Not  lose  it,"  corrected  Jack,  who  had  been  sit- 
ting in  a  silence  unusual  for  him, 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  say  that.  The  word  happened 
to  slip  out,  that's  all.  I  only  meant  till  it  was  gone 
away  for  a  time." 

"When  you  used  that  word,  mother,  it  made  me 
feel  just  as  if  Ida  wasn't  coming  back." 

"I  don't  know  why  it  is,"  said  Mrs.   Harding, 

thoughtfully,  "  but  I've  had  that  same  feeling  several 
11 


162  JAC£S  WARD;  OB, 

times  to-day.  I've  felt  just  as  if  something  or  othei 
would  happen  to  prevent  Ida's  coming  back." 

"That  is  only  because  she's  never  been  away 
before,"  said  the  cooper,  cheerfully.  "It  isn't  best 
to  borrow  trouble,  Martha ;  we  shall  have  enough  of 
it  without." 

"You  never  said  a  truer  word,  brother,"  said 
Rachel,  mournfully.  "  Man  is  born  to  trouble  as  the 
sparks  fly  upwards.  This  world  is  a  vale  of  tears, 
and  a  home  of  misery.  Folks  may  try  and  try  to 
be  happy,  but  that  isn't  what  they're  sent  here  for." 

"You  never  tried  very  hard,  Aunt  Rachel,"  said 
Jack. 

"  It's  my  fate  to  be  misjudged,"  said  his  aunt  with 
the  air  of  a  martyr. 

"  I  vlon't  agree  with  you  in  your  ideas  about  life, 
Rachel,"  said  her  brother.  "  Just  as  there  are  more 
pleasant  than  stormy  days,  so  I  believe  there  is  much 
more  of  brightness  than  shadow  in  this  life  of  ours, 
if  we  would  only  see  it." 

"  I  can't  see  it,"  said  Rachel,  shaking  her  head 
very  decidedly. 

"  Perhaps  you  could  if  you  tried." 


THE  EOT  GUARDIAN.  163 

«  So  I  do." 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Rachel,  you  take  more  pains  to 
look  at  the  clouds  than  the  sun." 

"Yes,"  chimed  in  Jack,  "I've  noticed  whenever 
Aunt  Rachel  takes  up  the  newspaper,  she  always 
looks  first  at  the  deaths,  and  next  at  the  fatal  acci- 
dents and  steamboat  explosions." 

"  If,"  retorted  Rachel,  with  severe  emphasis,  "you 
should  ever  be  on  board  a  steamboat  when  it  ex- 
ploded, you  wouldn't  find  much  to  laugh  at." 

"  Yes,  I  should,"  said  Jack,  "  I  should  laugh  — " 

"  What ! "  exclaimed  Rachel,  horrified. 

"  On  the  other  side  of  my  mouth,"  concluded  Jack. 
"  You  didn't  wait  till  I'd  finished  the  sentence." 

"  I  don't  think  it  proper  to  make  light  of  such 
serious  matters." 

"  Nor  I,  Aunt  Rachel,"  said  Jack,  drawing  down 
the  corners  of  his  mouth.  "  I  am  willing  to  confess 
that  this  is  a  serious  matter.  I  should  feel  as  they 
say  the  cow  did,  that  was  thrown  three  hundred  feet 
up  into  the  air." 

"How's  that?"  inquired  his  mother. 

"  Rather  discouraged,"  answered  Jack. 


164:  JACK'S  WARD;  <XR, 

All  laughed  except  Aunt  Rachel,  who  preserved 
the  same  severe  composure,  and  continued  to  eat  the 
pie  upon  her  plate  with  the  air  of  one  gulping  down 
medicine. 

So  the  evening  passed.  All  seemed  to  miss  Ida. 
Mrs.  Harding  found  herself  stealing  glances  at  the 
smaller  chair  beside  her  own  in  which  Ida  usually 
sat.  The  cooper  seemed  abstracted,  and  did  not  take 
as  much  interest  as  usual  in  the  evening  paper.  Jack 
was  restless,  and  found  it  difficult  to  fix  his  attention 
upon  anything.  Even  Aunt  Rachel  looked  more 
dismal  than  usual,  if  such  a  thing  be  possible. 

In  the  morning  all  felt  more  cheerful. 

"  Ida  will  be  home  to-night,"  said  Mrs.  Harding, 
brightly.  uWhat  an  age  it  seems  since  she  went 
away  !  Who'd  think  it  was  only  twenty-four  hours  ?  " 

"  We  shall  know  better  how  to  appreciate  her 
when  we  get  her  back,"  said  her  husband. 

"  What  time  do  you  expect  her  home,  mother? 
What  did  Mrs.  Hardwick  say  ?  " 

"  Why,"  said  Mrs.  Harding,  hesitating,  "  she 
didn't  say  as  to  the  hour;  but  I  guess  she'll  be 
along  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon." 


THE   EOT  GUARDIAN.  165 

"  If  we  only  knew  where  she  had  gone,  we  could 
tell  better  when  to  expect  her." 

"  But  as  we  don't  know,"  said  the  cooper,  "  we 
must  wait  patiently  till  she  comes." 

"I  guess,"  said  Mrs.  Harding,  with  the  impulse 
of  a  notable  housewife,  "  I'll  make  some  apple  turn- 
overs for  supper  to-night.  There's  nothing  Ida  likes 
so  well." 

"  That's  where  Ida  is  right,"  said  Jack,  smacking 
his  lips.  Apple  turnovers  are  splendid." 

"  They  are  very  unwholesome,"  remarked  Rachel. 

"  I  shouldn't  think  so  from  the  way  you  eat  them, 
Aunt  Rachel,"  retorted  Jack.  "You  ate  four  the 
last  time  we  had  them  for  supper." 

"  I  didn't  think  you'd  begrudge  me  the  little  I 
eat,"  said  his  aunt,  dolefully.  "  I  didn't  think  you 
counted  the  mouthfuls  I  took." 

"Come,  Rachel,  don't  be  unreasonable,"  said  her 
brother,  "  Nobody  begrudges  you  what  you  eat, 
even  if  you  choose  to  eat  twice  as  much  as  you  do. 
I  dare  say  Jack  ate  more  of  the  turnovers  than  you 
did." 

"  I  ate  six,"  said  Jack,  candidly. 


166  JACX?S  WARD;  oj?, 

Rachel,  construing  this  into  an  apology,  said  no 
more  ;  but,  feeling  it  necessary  to  explain  why  she  ate 
what  she  admitted  to  be  unwholesome,  she  added,  — 

"  If  I  do  eat  what's  unwholesome,  it's  because  life 
aint  of  any  value  to  me.  The  sooner  I  get  out  of 
this  vale  of  affliction,  the  better." 

"  And  the  way  you  take  to  get  out  of  it,"  said 
Jack,  gravely,'' is  by  eating  apple  turnovers.  When 
you  die,  Aunt  Rachel,  we  shall  have  to  put  a  para- 
graph in  the  papers,  headed,  '  Suicide  by  eating  apple 
turnovers.' " 

Rachel  intimated  in  reply  that  she  presumed  it 
would  give  Jack  a  great  deal  of  satisfaction  to  write 
such  a  paragraph. 

"  No,  it  wouldn't,"  said  Jack.  "  If  it  wasn't  for 
you,  Aunt  Rachel,  I  should  be  in  danger  of  getting 
too  jolly,  perhaps,  and  spilling  over.  It  always 
makes  me  sober  to  look  at  you." 

"It's  lucky  there's  something  to  make  you  sober 
and  stiddy,"  said  his  aunt.  "You  are  too  friv- 
olous." 

"  Were  you  ever  frivolous,  Aunt  Rachel?  " 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  167 

"  Never !  "  said  his  aunt,  with  emphasis.  "  I  de- 
spise it." 

The  day  wore  away,  and  evening  came,  but  it  did 
not  bring  Ida. 

The  family  began  to  feel  alarmed.  An  indefinable 
sense  of  apprehension  oppressed  the  minds  of  all. 
Martha  feared  that  Ida's  mother  finding  her  so  attract- 
ive, could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  keeping  her. 

44 1  suppose,"  she  said,  "  that  she  has  the  best 
claim  to  her  but  it  would  be  a  terrible  thing  for  us  to 
part  with  her." 

4 'Don't  let  us  trouble  ourselves  about  that,"  said 
Timothy.  44It  seems  to  me  very  natural  that  her 
mother  should  keep  her  a  little  longer  than  she 
intended.  Think  how  long  it  is,  since  she  saw  her. 
Besides  it  is  not  too  late  for  her  to  return  to-night." 

This  cheered  his  wife  a  little. 

The  evening  passed  slowly. 

At  length  there  came  a  knock  at  the  door. 

"  I  guess  that  is  Ida,"  said  Mrs.  Harding,  joyfully. 

Jack  seized  a  candle,  and  hastening  to  the  door, 
threw  it  open.  But  there  was  no  Ida  there.  In  her 


168  JACE?S  WARD;  O.R, 

place  stood  William  Fitts,  the  boy  who  had  met  Ida 
in  the  cars. 

"How  are  you,  Bill?"  said  Jack,  trying  not  to 
look  disappointed.  "  Come  in,  and  take  a  seat, 
and  tell  us  all  the  news." 

"  Well,"  said  William,  "  I  don't  know  of  any. 
I  suppose  Ida  has  got  home  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Jack ;  "  we  expected  her  to-night, 
but  she  hasn't  come  yet." 

"  She  told  me  she  expected  to  come  back  to-day,*' 
said  the  young  apple-merchant. 

"What!  have  you  seen  her?"  exclaimed  all  in 
chorus. 

"  Yes  ;  I  saw  her  yesterday  noon." 

"Where?" 

"Why,  in  the  cars,"  answered  William,  surprised 
at  the  question. 

"  What  cars?"  asked  the  cooper. 

"Why,  the  Philadelphia  cars.  Of  course  you 
knew  it  was  there  she  was  going?" 

"Philadelphia!"  exclaimed  all  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  the  cars  were  almost  there  when  I  saw  her 
Who  was  that  with  her?" 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  169 

"  Mrs.  Hardwick,  her  old  nurse." 

"  I  did  I't  like  her  looks." 

"  That's  where  we  paddle  in  the  same  canoe,"  said 
Jack. 

"  She  didn't  seem  to  want  me  to  speak  to  Ida," 
continued  William,  "  but  hurried  her  off  as  quick  as 
possible." 

"  There  were  reasons  for  that,"  said  the  cooper. 
"  She  wanted  to  keep  her  destination  secret." 

"  I  don't  know  what  it  was,"  said  the  boy,  but  I 
don't  like  the  woman's  looks." 

44  Nor  I,"  said  Aunt  Rachel.  "I've  always  said 
she's  an  impostor." 

The  family  felt  a  little  relieved  by  this  chance 
information,  and  thought  it  less  strange  that  Ida  had 
outstay ec  her  time,  now  that  they  knew  where  she 
was. 


170  JACK'S  WARD; 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

HOW  IDA   FARED. 

WE  left  Ida  confined  in  a  dark  closet,  with  Peg 
standing  guard  over  her. 

After  an  hour  she  was  released. 

u  Well,"  said  the  nurse,  grimly,  "  how  do  you  feel 
now?" 

" 1  want  to  go  home,"  sobbed  the  child. 

"  You  are  at  home,"  said  the  woman.  "  This  is 
going  to  be  your  home  now." 

"  Shall  I  never  see  father,  and  mother,  and  Jack 
again?" 

"Why,"  answered  Peg,  "that  depends  on  how 
you  behave  yourself." 

"  Oh,  if  you  will  only  let  ine  go,"  pleaded  Ida, 
gathering  hope  from  this  remark,  "  I'll  do  anything 
you  say." 

"  Do  you  mean  this,  or  do  you  only  say  it  for  the 
sake  of  getting  away?" 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  171 

*'  I  mean  just  what  I  say.  Dear,  good  Mrs.  Hard- 
wick,  just  tell  me  what  I  am  to  do,  and  I  will  obey 
you  cheerfully." 

"Very  well,"  said  Peg,  "  only  you  needn't  try  to 
«come  it  over  me  by  calling  me  dear,  good  Mrs.  Hard- 
wick.  In  the  first  place,  you  don't  care  a  cent  about 
me  ;  in  the  second  place,  I  am  not  good ;  and  finally, 
my  name  isn't  Mrs.  Hardwick,  except  in  New  York." 

"  What  is  it,  then?  "  asked  Ida. 

"It's  just  Peg,  no  more  and  no  less.  You  may 
call  me  Aunt  Peg." 

"  I  would  rather  call  you  Mrs.  Hardwick." 

"Then  you'll  have  a  good  many  years  to  call  me 
so.  You'd  better  do  as  I  tell  you,  if  you  want  any 
favors.  Now  what  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Aunt  Peg,"  said  Ida,  with  a  strong  effort  to 
conceal  her  repugnance. 

"  That's  well.  Now  the  first  thing  is,  to  stay  here 
for  the  present." 

"Yes— -aunt" 

"  The  second  is,  you're  not  to  tell  anybody  that 
you  came  from  New  York.  That  is  very  important 
You  understand  that,  do  you  ?  " 


172  JACK'S  WARD;  OR, 

The  child  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"  The  next  is,  that  you're  to  pay  your  board  bj 
doing  whatever  I  tell  you." 

"If  it  isn't  wicked." 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  would  ask  you  to  do  anything 
wicked?"  demanded  Peg,  frowning. 

"  You  said  you  wasn't  good,"  mildly  suggested  Ida. 

"  I'm  good  enough  to  take  care  of  you.  Well, 
what  do  you  say  to  that?  Answer  me." 

"  Yes." 

"There's  another  thing.  You  aint  to  try  to  run 
away." 

Ida  hung  down  her  head. 

"Ha!"  exclaimed  Peg.  "So  you've  been  think- 
ing of  it,  have  you  ?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  Ida,  boldly,  after  a  moment's 
hesitation.  "  I  did  think  I  should  if  I  got  a  good 
chance." 

"  Humph ! "  said  the  woman,  "  I  see  we  must  un- 
derstand one  another.  Unless  you  promise  this,  back 
you  go  into  the  dark  closet,  and  I  shall  keep  you 
there  all  the  time." 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  173 

Ida  shuddered  at  this  fearful  threat  —  terrible  to  a 
child  of  but  eight  years. 

"  Do  you  promise?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Ida,  faintly. 

"For  fear  you  might  be  tempted  to  break  your 
promise,  I  have  something  to  show  you." 

Mrs.  Hardwick  went  to  the  closet,  and  took  down 
a  large  pistol. 

"  There,"  she  said,  "  do  you  see  that?" 

"  Yes,  Aunt  Peg." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  It  is  a  pistol,  I  believe." 

"  Do  you  know  what  it  is  for?" 

"  To  shoot  people  with,"  answered  the  child,  fixing 
her  eyes  upon  the  weapon,  as  if  impelled  by  a  species 
of  fascination. 

"Yes,"  said  the  nurse,  "I  see  you  understand. 
Well,  now,  do  you  know  what  I  would  do  if  you 
Bhould  tell  anybody  where  you  came  from,  or  attempt 
to  run  away  ?  Can  you  guess,  now  ?  " 

"Would  you  shoot  me?"  asked  Ida,  terror- 
stricken. 

"  Yes,  I  would,"  said  Peg,  with  fierce  emphasis. 


174  JACE?S  WARD;  OR, 

"  That's  just  what  I'd  do.  And  what's  more,"  she 
added,  "  even  if  you  got  away,  and  got  back  to  your 
family  in  New  York,  I  would  follow  you,  and  shoot 
you  dead  in  the  street." 

"  You  wouldn't  be  so  wicked ! "  exclaimed  Ida, 
appalled. 

"  Wouldn't  I,  though?"  repeated  Peg,  signifi- 
cantly. "  If  you  don't  believe  I  would,  just  try  it. 
Do  you  think  you  would  like  to  try  it?"  she  asked 
fiercely. 

"  No,"  answered  Ida  with  a  shudder. 

"  Well,  that's  the  most  sensible  thing  you've  said 
yet.  Now  that  you  are  a  little  more  reasonable,  I'll 
tell  you  what  I  am  going  to  do  with  you." 

Ida  looked  eagerly  up  into  her  face. 

"  I  am  going  to  keep  you  with  me  for  a  year.  I 
want  the  services  of  a  little  girl  for  that  time.  If 
you  serve  me  faithfully,  I  will  then  send  you  back  to 
your  friends  in  New  York." 

"  Will  you?"  asked  Ida,  hopefully. 

"  Yes,  but  you  must  mind  and  do  what  I  tell  you." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Ida,  joyfully. 

This  was  so  much  better  than  she  had  been  led  to- 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  175 

fear,  that  the  prospect  of  returning  home  at  all,  even 
though  she  had  to  wait  a  year,  encouraged  her. 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do?"  she  asked,  anx- 
ious to  conciliate  Peg. 

4 'You  may  take  the  broom  —  you  will  find  it  just 
behind  the  door  —  and  sweep  the  room." 

4 'Yes,  Aunt  Peg." 

"  And  then  you  may  wash  the  dishes,  or  rather, 
you  may  wash  the  dishes  first." 

4 'Yes,  Aunt  Peg." 

44  And  after  that,  I  will  find  something  else  for  you 
to  do." 

Mrs.  Hardwick  threw  herself  into  a  rocking-chair, 
and  watched  with  grim  satisfaction  the  little  hand- 
maiden, as  she  moved  quickly  about,  and  performed 
the  task  which  had  been  set  her. 

44 1  took  the  right  course  with  her,"  she  said  to 
herself.  44She  won't  any  more  dare  to  run  away 
than  to  chop  her  hands  off.  She  thinks  Til  shoot 
her." 

And  the  unprincipled  woman  chuckled  to  herself. 

Ida  heard  her  indistinctly,  and  asked,  timidly, 
44  Did  you  speak,  Aunt  Peg?" 


176  JActfs  WARD;  OR, 

11  No,  I  didn't ;  just  attend  to  your  work  and  don't 
mind  me.  Did  your  mother  make  you  work? " 

"  No ;  I  went  to  school." 

"  Time  you  learned.  I'll  make  a  smart  woman  of 
you." 

The  next  morning  Ida  was  asked  if  she  would  like 
to  go  out  into  the  street. 

This  was  a  welcome  proposition,  as  the  sun  was 
shining  brightly,  and  there  was  little  to  please  a 
child's  fancy  in  Peg's  shabby  apartment. 

"  I  am  going  to  let  you  do  a  little  shopping,"  said 
Peg.  "  There  are  various  things  we  want.  Go  and 
get  your  hat." 

"  It's  in  the  closet,"  said  Ida. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  put  it  there.  That  was  before  I 
could  trust  you." 

She  went  to  the  closet  and  returned  with  the 
child's  hat  and  shawl.  As  soon  as  the  two  were 
ready  they  emerged  into  the  street.  Ida  was  glad 
to  be  in  the  open  air  once  more. 

"This  is  a  little  better  than  being  shut  up  in  the 
closet,  isn't  it?"  asked  her  companion. 

"  Oh,  yes,  ever  so  much." 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  177 

"  You  see  you'll  have  a  very  good  time  of  it,  if 
you  do  as  I  bid  you.  I  don't  want  to  do  you  any 
harm.  I  want  you  to  be  happy." 

So  they  walked  along  together,  until  Peg,  sud- 
denly pausing,  laid  her  hand  on  Ida's  arm,  and 
pointing  to  a  shop  near  by,  said  to  her,  "Do  you 
see  that  shop  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Ida. 

"  Well,  that  is  a  baker's  shop.  Now  I'll  tell  you 
what  to  do.  I  want  you  to  go  in  and  ask  for  a 
couple  of  rolls.  They  come  to  three  cents  apiece. 
Here's  some  money  to  pay  for  them.  It  is  a  ne  .v 
dollar,  as  you  see.  You  will  give  this  to  the  man 
that  stands  behind  the  counter,  and  he  will  give  you 
back  ninety-four  cents.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Ida,  nodding  her  head.  "  I  think  I 
do." 

"And  if  the  man  asks  if  you  have  anything 
smaller,  you  will  say  no." 

"Yes,  Aunt  Peg." 

"I  will  stay  just  outside.    I  want  you  to  go  in 
alone,  so  you  will  learn  to  manage  without  me." 
12 


178  JAGS' s  WARD;  oa, 

Ida  entered  the  shop.  The  baker,  a  pleasant- 
looking  man,  stood  behind  the  counter. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  what  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"  I  should  like  a  couple  of  rolls." 

uFor  your  mother,  I  suppose?"  said  the  baker, 
sociably. 

"No,"  answered  Ida,  "for  the  woman  I  board 
with." 

"Ha!  a  dollar  bill,  and  a  new  one  too,"  said 
the  baker,  as  Ida  tendered  it  in  payment.  "  I  shall 
have  to  save  that  for  my  little  girl." 

Ida  left  the  shop  with  the  two  rolls  and  the  silver 
change. 

"Did  he  say  anything  about  the  money?"  asked 
Peg,  abruptly. 

"  He  said  he  should  save  it  for  his  little  girl." 

"  Good !  "  said  the  woman,  approvingly.  "  You've 
done  well." 

Ida  could  not  help  wondering  what  the  baker's 
disposal  of  the  dollar  had  to  do  with  her  doing  well ; 
but  she  was  soon  thinking  of  other  things. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  179 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

BAD  MONEY. 

THE  baker  introduced  to  the  reader's  notice  in  the 
foregoing  chapter  was  named  Harding.  Singularly, 
Abel  Harding,  for  that  was  his  name,  was  a  brother 
of  Timothy  Harding,  the  cooper. 

In  many  respects  he  resembled  his  brother.  He 
was  an  excellent  man,  exemplary  in  all  the  relations 
of  life,  and  had  a  good  heart.  He  was  in  very  com- 
fortable circumstances,  having  accumulated  a  little 
property  by  diligent  attention  to  his  business.  Like 
his  brother,  Abel  Harding  had  married,  and  had  one 
child,  now  about  the  size  of  Ida,  that  is,  eight  years 
old.  She  had  received  the  name  of  Ellen. 

When  the  baker  closed  his  shop  for  the  night,  he 
did  not  forget  the  new  dollar,  which  he  had  received, 
or  the  disposal  he  told  Ida  he  would  make  of  it. 

He  folded  it  carefully,  and  slipped  it  into  Ms  vest 
pocket. 


180  JACK'S  WARD;  <XB, 

Ehen  ran  to  meet  her  father  as  he  entered  the 
house. 

"  What  do  you  think  I  have  brought  you,  Ellen?  " 
he  said,  with  a  smile. 

"  Do  tell  me  quick,"  said  the  child,  eagerly. 

"  What  if  I  should  tell  you  it  was  a  new  dollar?  " 

"Oh,  papa,  thank  you!"  and  Ellen  ran  to  show 
it  to  her  mother. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  baker,  "  I  received  it  from  a  little 
girl  about  the  size  of  Ellen,  and  I  suppose  it  was  that 
that  gave  me  the  idea  of  bringing  it  home  to  her." 

"Was  she  a  pretty  little  girl?"  asked  Ellen, 
interested. 

"  Yes,  she  was  very  attractive.  I  could  not  help 
feeling  interested  in  her.  I  hope  she  will  come 
again." 

This  was  all  that  passed  concerning  Ida  at  that 
time.  The  thought  of  her  would  probably  have 
passed  from  the  baker's  mind,  if  it  had  not  been  re- 
called by  circumstances. 

Ellen,  like  most  girls  of  her  age,  when  in  pos- 
session of  money,  could  not  be  easy  until  she  had 
spent  it.  Her  mother  advised  her  to  lay  it  away,  or 


THE  BOJ  GUARDIAN.  181 

perhaps  deposit  it  in  some  savings-bank ;  but  Ellen 
preferred  present  gratification. 

Accordingly,  one  afternoon,  when  walking  out  with 
her  mother,  she  persuaded  her  to  go  into  a  toy-shop, 
and  price  a  doll  which  she  saw  in  the  window.  The 
price  was  seventy-five  cents.  Ellen  concluded  to  buy 
it,  and  her  mother  tendered  the  dollar  in  pay- 
ment. 

The  shopman  took  it  in  his  hand,  glanced  at  it 
carelessly  at  first,  then  scrutinized  it  with  increased 
attention. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  inquired  Mrs.  Harding. 
"  It  is  good,  isn't  it?" 

"That  is  what  I  am  doubtful  of,"  was  the  reply. 

"It  is  new." 

"  And  that  is  against  it.  If  it  were  old,  it  would 
be  more  likely  to  be  genuine." 

"But  you  wouldn't  condemn  a  bill  because  it  is 
new?" 

"Certainly  not;  but  the  fact  is,  there  have  been 
lately  many  cases  where  counterfeit  bills  have  been 
passed,  and  I  suspect  this  is  one  of  them.  However, 
I  can  soon  ascertain." 


182  JACK'S  WARD^  OB, 

"  I  wish  you  would,"  said  the  baker's  wife.  "  My 
husband  took  it  at  his  shop,  and  will  be  likely  to 
take  more  unless  he  is  put  on  his  guard." 

The  shopman  sent  it  to  the  bank  where  it  was  pro- 
nounced counterfeit. 

"  It  is  as  I  thought,"  he  said,  —  "  not  good." 

"Won't  you  take  it?"  asked  Ellen,  disappointed. 

"  I  am  afraid  not." 

"  Then,  I  don't  see,  Ellen,"  said  her  mother,  "  but 
you  will  have  to  give  up  your  purchase  for  to-day. 
We  must  tell  your  father  of  this." 

Mr.  Harding  was  much  surprised  at  his  wife's 
story. 

"Really,"  he  said.  "I  had  no  suspicion  of  this. 
Can  it  be  possible  that  such  a  young  and  beautiful 
child  could  be  guilty  of  such  an  offence  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  not,"  answered  his  wife.  "  She  may  be 
as  innocent  in  the  matter  as  Ellen  or  myself." 

"I  hope  so,"  said  the  baker ;  "  it  would  be  a  pity 
that  so  young  a  child  should  be  given  to  wickedness 
However,  I  shall  find  out  before  long." 

"How?" 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  183 

"  She  will  undoubtedly  come  again  sometime,  and 
if  she  then  offers  me  another,  I  shall  know  what  to 
think." 

The  baker  watched  daily  for  the  coming  of  Ida. 
He  waited  some  days  in  vain.  It  was  not  Peg's 
policy  to  send  the  child  too  often  to  the  same  place, 
as  that  would  increase  the  chances  of  detection. 

One  day,  however,  Ida  entered  the  shop  as  before. 

"  Good-morning,"  said  the  baker,  "what  will 
you  have  to-day?" 

"  You  may  give  me  a  sheet  of  gingerbread,  sir." 

The  baker  placed  it  in  her  hand. 

"How  much  will  it  be?" 

"  Twelve  cents." 

Ida  offered  him  another  new  bill. 

As  if  to  make  change,  he  stepped  from  behind  the 
counter  and  managed  to  place  himself  between  Ida 
and  the  door. 

"  What  is  your  name,  my  child?  "  he  asked. 

"Ida,  sir." 

"Ida?  A  very  pretty  name.  But  what  is  your 
other  name  ?  " 

Ida  hesitated  a  moment,  because  Peg  had  for- 


184  JACE?S  WARD;  os, 

bidden  her  to  use  the  name  of  Harding,  and  had 
told  her,  if  ever  the  inquiry  were  made,  she  must 
answer  Hard  wick. 

She  answered  reluctantly,  "  My  name  is  Ida 
Hardwick." 

The  baker  observed  her  hesitation,  and  this  in- 
creased his  suspicion. 

4 '  Hardwick ! "  he  repeated  musingly,  endeavoring 
to  draw  from  the  child  as  much  information  as  pos- 
sible before  allowing  her  to  perceive  that  he  sus- 
pected her.  "  And  where  do  you  live  ?  " 

Ida  was  a  child  of  spirit,  and  did  not  understand 
why  she  should  be  questioned  so  closely. 

She  said,  with  some  impatience,  "I  am  in  a 
hurry,  sir,  and  would  like  to  have  you  hand  me  the 
change  as  soon  as  you  can." 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  it,"  said  the  baker,  his 
manner  suddenly  changing,  ubut  you  cannot  go 
just  yet." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Ida. 

"  Because  you  have  been  trying  to  deceive  me," 
said  the  baker,  gravely. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  185 

"I  trying  to  deceive  you!"  exclaimed  Ida,  with 
an  air  of  genuine  surprise. 

"Really,"  thought  Mr.  Harding,  "she  does  it 
well ;  but  no  doubt  she  is  trained  to  it.  It  is  per- 
fectly shocking,  such  artful  depravity  in  a  child." 

"Don't  you  remember  buying  something  here  a 
week  ago?"  he  asked,  in  as  stern  a  tone  as  his  good- 
nature would  allow  him  to  employ. 

"Yes,"  answered  Ida,  promptly;  "I  bought  two 
rolls,  at  three  cents  apiece." 

"  And  what  did  you  offer  me  in  payment?" 

"  I  handed  you  a  dollar  bill." 

"  Like  this?  "  asked  the  baker,  holding  up  the  one 
she  had  just  offered  him. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  do  you  mean  to  say,"  demanded  the  baker, 
sternly,  "  that  you  didn't  know  it  was  bad  when  you 
offered  it  to  me?" 

"Bad!"  gasped  Ida. 

"  Yes,  spurious.  Not  as  good  as  blank  paper 
would  be." 

"And  is  this  like  it?" 

"  Precisely." 


186  JACK'S  WARD;  05, 

"Indeed,  sir,  I  didn't  know  anything  about  it," 
said  Ida,  earnestly ;  "  I  hope  you'll  believe  me  when 
I  say  that  I  thought  it  was  good." 

"I  don't  know  what  to  think,"  said  the  baker, 
perplexed.  ' '  Who  gave  you  the  money  ?  M 

"  The  woman  I  board  with." 

"  Have  you  any  other  money? " 

"  That  is  all." 

"Of  course  I  can't  give  you  the  gingerbread. 
Some  men,  in  my  place,  would  deliver  you  up  to  the 
police.  But  I  will  let  you  go,  if  you  will  make  me 
one  promise." 

"  Oh,  I  will  promise  anything,  sir,"  said  Ida,  who 
had  a  great  dread  of  the  police.  "Don't  let  the 
police  take  me." 

"  I  couldn't,"  thought  the  baker.  "  It  would  be  a 
shame  to  arrest  such  a  nice-looking  little  girl." 

He  said  aloud,  "You  have  given  me  a  bad  dol- 
lar. Will  you  promise  to  bring  me  a  good  one 
to-morrow?" 

Ida  made  the  required  promise,  and  was  allowed 
to  go. 


THE  EOT  GUARDIAN.  187 


CHAPTER     XX. 

DOUBTS  AND   FEARS. 

"WELL,  what  kept  you  so  long?"  asked  Peg, 
impatiently,  as  Ida  rejoined  her  at  the  corner  of  the 
street,  where  she  had  been  waiting  for  her.  "  I 
thought  you  were  going  to  stay  all  the  forenoon. 
And  where's  your  gingerbread  ?  " 

"He  wouldn't  let  me  have  it,"  answered  Ida. 

"  And  why  wouldn't  he  let  you  have  it?"  said  Peg 
imitating  her  tone. 

"  Because  he  said  the  money  wasn't  good." 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense !  It's  good  enough,"  said 
Peg,  hastily.  * 1  However,  it's  no  matter.  We'll  go 
somewhere  else." 

"But  he  said  the  money  I  gave  him  last  week 
wasn't  good,  and  I  promised  to  bring  him  another  to- 
morrow, or  he  wouldn't  have  let  me  go." 

"  Well,  where  are  you  going  to  get  your  dollar  to 
oarry  him?"  asked  Peg,  coolly. 


188  jActfs  WARD;  on, 

"Why,  won't  you  give  it  to  me?"  said  the  child, 
hesitatingly. 

"Catch  me  at  such  nonsense!"  said  Mrs.  Hard- 
wick,  contemptuously.  "I  aint  quite  a  fool.  But 
here  we  are  at  another  shop.  Go  in  and  see  if  you 
can  do  any  better  there.  Here's  the  money." 

"  Why,  it's  the  same  piece." 

"What  if  it  is?" 

"  I  don't  want  to  pass  bad  money." 

"  Tut,  what  hurt  will  it  do?" 

"  It's  the  same  as  stealing." 

"The  man  won't  lose  anything.  He'll  pass  it  off 
again." 

"  Somebody'll  have  to  lose  it  by  and  by,"  said 
Ida,  whose  clear  perception  saw  through  the  woman's 
sophistry. 

"  So  you've  taken  up  preaching,  have  you?"  said 
Peg,  sneeringly.  "  Maybe  you  know  better  than  I 
what  is  proper  to  do.  It  won't  do  for  you  to  be  so 
mighty  particular,  and  so  you'll  find  out,  if  you  stay 
with  me  long." 

"Where  did  you  take  the  dollar?"    asked  Ida. 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  189 

with  a  sudden  thought,  "  and  how  is  it  you  have  so 
many  of  them  ?  " 

"  None  of  your  business,"  answered  her  com- 
panion, roughly.  "  You  mustn't  pry  into  the  affairs 
of  other  people." 

"Are  you  going  to  do  as  I  told  you?"  she  con- 
tinued, menacingly. 

"  I  can't,"  answered  Ida,  pale  but  resolute. 

"You  can't!"  repeated  Peg,  furiously.  "Didn't 
you  promise  to  do  whatever  I  told  you  ?  " 

"  Except  what  was  wicked,"  interposed  Ida. 

"And  what  business  have  you  to  decide  what  is 
wicked  ?  Come  home  with  me." 

Peg  seized  the  child's  hand,  and  walked  on  in  sul- 
len silence,  occasionally  turning  to  scowl  upon  Ida, 
who  had  been  strong  enough,  in  her  determination  to 
do  right,  to  resist  successfully  the  will  of  the  woman 
whom  she  had  so  much  reason  to  dread. 

Arrived  at  home,  Peg  walked  Ida  into  the  room  by 
the  shoulder. 

Dick  was  lounging  in  a  chair,  with  the  inevitable 
pipe  in  his  mouth. 


190  JAC£S  WARD;  ou, 

"Hilloa!"  said  he,  lazily,  observing  his  wife'a 
frowning  face.  "What's  the  gal  been  doin',  hey?  " 

"What's  she  been  doing?"  repeated  Peg.  "I 
should  like  to  know  what  she  hasn't  been  doing. 
She's  refused  to  go  in  and  buy  gingerbread  of  the 
baker,  as  I  told  her  to  do." 

"  Look  here,  little  gal,"  said  Dick,  in  a  moralizing 
vein,  "  isn't  this  rayther  undootiful  conduct  on  your 
part?  Aint  it  a  piece  of  ingratitude,  when  Peg  and  I 
go  to  the  trouble  of  earning  the  money  to  pay  for 
gingerbread  for  you  to  eat,  that  you  aint  even  willin* 
to  go  in  and  buy  it  ?  What  have  you  got  to  say  to 
that,  hey?" 

"  I  would  just  as  lieve  go  in,"  said  Ida,  "  if  Peg 
would  give  me  good  money  to  pay  for  it." 

"  That  don't  make  any  difference,"  said  the  admir- 
able moralist.  "  It's  your  dooty  to  do  just  as  she  tells 
you,  and  you'll  do  right.  She'll  take  the  risk." 

"  I  can't,"  said  the  child. 

"  You  hear  her ! "  said  Peg. 

"  Very  improper  conduct ! "  said  Dick,  shaking  his 
head  in  grave  reproval.  "  Little  gal,  I'm  ashamed  of 
you.  Put  her  in  the  closet,  Peg." 


THE  BOY  GVARDIAX.  191 

> 

"  Come  along,"  said  Peg,  harshly.  "  Fll  show  you 
how  I  deal  with  those  that  don't  obey  me." 

So  Ida  was  incarcerated  once  more  in  the  dark 
closet.  Yet  in  the  midst  of  her  desolation,  child  as 
she  was,  she  was  sustained  and  comforted  by  the 
thought  that  she  was  suffering  for  doing  right. 

When  Ida  failed  to  return  on  the  appointed  day, 
the  Hardings,  though  disappointed,  did  not  think  it 
strange. 

"If  I  were  her  mother,"  said  the  cooper's  wife, 
"  and  had  been  parted  from  her  for  so  long,  I  should 
want  to  keep  her  as  long  as  I  could.  Dear  heart ! 
how  pretty  she  is  and  how  proud  her  mother  must 
be  of  her!" 

"  It's  all  a  delusion,"  said  Rachel,  shaking  her 
head,  solemnly.  "  It's  all  a  delusion.  I  don't  believe 
she's  got  a  mother  at  all.  That  Mrs.  Hardwick  is  an 
impostor.  I  know  it,  and  told  you  so  at  the  time, 
but  you  wouldn't  believe  me.  I  never  expect  to  set 
eyes  on  Ida  again  in  this  world." 

"  I  do,"  said  Jack,  confidently. 

"There's  many  a  hope  that's  doomed  to  disap- 
pointment," said  his  aunt. 


192  JACK'S  WARD;  OB, 

"  So  there  is,"  said  Jack,  unexpectedly  chiming  in 
with  her.  "  I  was  hoping  mother  would  have  apple- 
pudding  to-day  for  dinner,  and  she  didn't." 

"It's  no  laughing  matter,"  said  Rachel,  shaking 
her  head,  ominously. 

The  next  day  passed,  and  still  no  tidings  of  Jack's 
ward.  Her  young  guardian,  though  not  as  gloomy 
as  Aunt  Rachel,  looked  unusually  serious,  and  evi- 
dently missed  her  more  than  he  was  willing  to  ac- 
knowledge. 

There  was  a  cloud  of  anxiety  even  upon  the  cooper's 
usually  placid  face,  and  he  was  more  silent  than  usual 
at  the  evening  meal.  He  began  to  realize  how  Ida 
had  entwined  herself  in  his  affections. 

At  night,  after  Jack  and  his  aunt  had  retired,  he 
said  anxiously,  "  What  do  you  think  is  the  cause  of 
Ida's  prolonged  absence,  Martha?" 

"  I  can't  tell/'  said  his  wife,  seriously.  "  It  seems 
to  me,  if  her  mother  wanted  to  keep  her  longer  than 
the  time  she  at  first  proposed,  it  would  be  no  more 
than  right  that  she  should  drop  us  a  line.  She  must 
know  that  we  would  feel  anxious." 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  193 

"  Perhaps  she  is  so  taken  up  with  Ida  that  she 
can  think  of  no  one  else." 

"  It  may  be  so,  Timothy ;  but  if  we  neither  see  Ida 
to-morrow,  nor  hear  from  her,  I  shall  be  seriously 
troubled." 

"  Suppose  she  should  never  come  back,"  suggested 
the  cooper,  very  soberly. 

"  Oh,  husband,  don't  hint  at  such  a  thing,"  said 
his  wife,  looking  distressed. 

"We  must  contemplate  it  as  a  possibility,"  said 
Timothy,  gravely,  "  though  not,  as  I  hope,  as  a 
probability.  Ida's  mother*  has  an  undoubted  right  to 
her ;  a  better  right  than  any  we  can  urge." 

"Then  it  would  be  better  if  she  had  never  been 
placed  in  our  charge,"  said  Martha,  tearfully,  "  for 
we  should  not  have  had  the  pain  of  parting  with 
her." 

"Not 'so,  Martha,"  her  husband  said,  seriously. 
"  We  ought  to  be  grateful  for  God's  blessings,  even 
if  he  suffers  us  to  retain  them  but  a  short  time. 
And  Ida  has  been  a  blessing  to  us  all,  I  am  sure. 
How  many  hours  have  been  made  happy  by  her 

childish  prattle!    How  our  hearts  have  been  filled 
13 


194  JACtfs  WARD;  O5, 

with  cheerful  happiness  and  affection  when  we  have 
gazed  upon  her !  The  memory  of  that  can't  be 
taken  from  us,  even  if  she  is,  Martha.  There's 
some  lines  I  came  across  in  the  paper  to-night  that 
express  just  what  I've  been  sayin'.  Let  me  find 
them." 

The  cooper  put  on  his  spectacles,  and  hunted 
slowly  down  the  columns  of  the  daily  paper  till  he 
came  to  these  beautiful  lines  of  Tennyson,  which  he 
read  aloud :  — 

"  '  I  hold  it  true,  whate'er  befall ; 
I  feel  it  -vrhen  I  sorrow  most ; 
Tis  better  to  have  loved  and  lost, 
Then  never  to  have  loved  at  all.'  * 

"  There,  wife,"  he  said,  as  he  laid  down  the  paper ; 
"  I  don't  know  who  writ  them  lines,  but  I'm  sure  it's 
some  one  that's  met  with  a  great  sorrow  and  con- 
quered it." 

"  They  are  beautiful,"  said  his  wife,  after  a  pause  j 
"  and  I  dare  say  you're  right,  Timothy ;  but  I  hope 
we  mayn't  have  to  learn  the  truth  of  them  by 
experience.  After  all,  it  isn't  certain  but  that  Ida 


THE  EOT  GUARDIAN.  195 

will  come  back.  We  are  troubling  ourselves  too 
soon." 

"At  any  rate,"  said  her  husband,  "there  is  no 
doubt  that  it  is  our  duty  to  take  every  means  that 
we  can  to  recover  Ida.  Of  course,  if  her  mother 
insists  upon  keepin'  her,  we  can't  say  anything ;  but 
we  ought  to  be  sure  of  that  before  we  yield  her  up." 

1 l  What  do  you  mean,  Timothy  ? "  asked  Martha, 
fixing  her  eyes  anxiously  upon  her  husband's  face. 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  ought  to  mention  it,"  said  the 
cooper.  "  Very  likely  there  isn't  anything  in  it,  and 

it  would  only  make  you  feel  more  anxious." 

v 
"  You  have  already  aroused  my  anxiety.     I  should 

feel  better  if  you  would  speak  out." 

"Then  I  will,"  said  the  cooper.  "I  have  some- 
times been  tempted,"  he  continued,  lowering  his 
voice,  "  to  doubt  whether  Ida's  mother  really  sent  for 
her." 

"How  do  you  account  for  the  letter,  then?" 
queried  Mrs.  Harding,  looking  less  surprised  than 
he  expected  she  would. 

"  I  have  thought — mind,  it  is  only  a  guess  on  my 


196  JACK'S  WARD;  OB, 

part — that  Mrs.  Hardwick  may  have  got  somebody 
to  write  it  for  her." 

44  It  is  very  singular,"  murmured  Martha,  in  a 
ione  of  abstraction. 

44  What  is  singular?" 

"  Why,  the  very  same  thought  has  occurred  to  me. 
Somehow,  I  can't  help  feeling  a  little  distrustful  of 
Mrs.  Hardwick,  though  perhaps  unjustly.  But  there 
is  one  thing  I  can't  understand.  What  object  can 
she  have  in  getting  possession  of  the  child?" 

44  That  I  can't  conjecture  ;  but  I  have  come  to  one 
determination." 

44  What  is  that?" 

44  Unless  we  learn  something  of  Ida  within  a  week 
from  the  time  she  left  here,  I  shall  go  on  to  Phila- 
delphia, or  else  send  Jack,  and  endeavor  to  get  track 
of  her." 

44 1  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  Timothy.  I  feel 
as  if  something  ought  to  be  done." 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  197 


CHAPTER    XXI. 
AUNT  RACHEL'S  MISHAPS. 

Tine  week  which  had  been  assigned  by  the  cooper 
slipped  away,  and  still  no  tidings  of  Ida.  The 
house  seemed  lonely  without  her.  Not  until  then 
did  they  understand  how  largely  she  had  entered  into 
their  life  and  thoughts.  But  worse  even  than  the 
sense  of  loss  was  the  uncertainty  as  to  her  fate. 

When  the  week  was  at  an  end  the  cooper  said, 
"It  is  time  that  we  took  some  steps  about  finding 
Ida.  I  would  like  to  go  to  Philadelphia  myself,  to 
make  inquiries  about  her,  but  I  am  just  now  engaged 
upon  a  job  which  I  cannot  very  well  leave,  and  so  I 
have  concluded  to  send  Jack." 

"  When  shall  I  start?"  exclaimed  Jack,  jumping 
up  eagerly. 

"  To-morrow  morning,"  answered  his  father ;  "  and 
you  must  take  clean  clothes  enough  with  you  to  last 
you  several  days,  in  case  it  should  be  necessary." 


198  JACX?S  WARD;  o«, 

"What  good  do  you  think  it  will  do,  Timothy," 
interposed  Rachel,  "  to  send  a  mere  boy  like  Jack 
to  Philadelphia?" 

"  A  mere  boy !  "  repeated  her  nephew,  inlignantly. 

"A  boy  hardly  sixteen  years  old,"  continued 
Rachel.  "  Why,  he'll  need  somebody  to  take  care  of 
him.  Most  likely  you'll  have  to  go  after  him." 

4 'What's  the  use  of  provoking  a  fellow  so,  Aunt 
Rachel  ?  "  said  Jack.  ' '  You  know  I'm  'most  eighteen. 
Hardly  sixteen!  Why,  I  might  as  well  say  you're 
hardly  forty,  when  we  all  know  you're  fifty." 

4 'Fifty!"  ejaculated  the  scandalized  spinster. 
"  It's  a  base  slander.  I'm  only  thirty-seven." 

"  Maybe  I'm  mistaken,"  said  Jack,  carelessly.  "  1 
didn't  know  exactly  how  old  you  were  ;  I  only  judged 
from  your  looks." 

"  Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged  ! "  said  Rachel, 
who  was  by  no  means  appeased  by  this  explanation 
"  The  world  is  full  of  calumny  and  misrepresentation. 
I've  no  doubt  you  would  like  to  shorten  my  days 
upon  the  earth,  but  it  isn't  necessary.  I  sha'n't  live 
long  to  trouble  you.  I  feel  that  ere  the  summer  of 


THE   BOY  GUARDIAN.  199 

life  is  over,  I  shall  be  gathered  into  the  garner  of  the 
Great  Destroyer." 

At  this  point,  Rachel  applied  a  segment  of  a 
pocket-handkerchief  to  her  eyes ;  but,  unfortunately, 
owing  to  circumstances,  the  effect  instead  of  being 
pathetic,  as  she  intended  it  to  be,  was  simply  ludic- 
rous. 

This  is  the  explanation. 

It  so  happened  that  a  short  time  previous,  the  ink- 
stand had  been  partially  spilled  upon  the  table,  through 
Jack's  carelessness,  as  I  am  forced  to  admit,  and  this 
handkerchief  had  been  used  to  sop  it  up.  It  had 
been  placed  inadvertently  upon  the  window-seat, 
where  it  had  remained  until  Rachel,  who  was  eating 
beside  the  window,  called  it  into  requisition.  The 
ink  upon  it  was  by  no  means  dry.  The  consequence 
was,  that,  when  Rachel  removed  it  from  her  eyes, 
her  face  was  discovered  to  be  covered  with  ink  in 
streaks  mingling  with  the  tears  that  were  falling,  for 
Rachel  always  had  a  plentiful  supply  of  tears  at  com- 
mand. 

The  first  intimation  the  luckless  spinster  had  of  her 
mishap,  was  conveyed  in  a  stentorian  laugh  from 


200  JActfs  WARD;  OR, 

Jack,  whose  organ  of  mirthfulness,  marked  very 
large  by  the  phrenologists,  could  not  withstand  such 
a  provocation  to  laughter. 

He  looked  intently  at  the  dark  traces  of  sorrow  on 
his  aunt's  face  —  of  which  she  was  yet  unconscious  — 
and  doubling  up,  went  off  into  a  perfect  paroxysm  of 
laughter. 

Aunt  Rachel  looked  equally  amazed  and  indignant. 

"  Jack ! "  said  his  mother,  reprovingly,  for  she  had 
not  observed  the  cause  of  his  amusement,  "  it's  im- 
proper for  you  to  laugh  at  your  aunt  in  such  a  rude 
manner." 

"  Oh,  I  can't  help  it,  mother.  It's  too  rich.  Just 
look  at  her,"  and  Jack  went  off  into  another  parox 
ysm. 

Thus  invited,  Mrs.  Harding  did  look,  and  the  rue- 
ful expression  of  Rachel,  set  off  by  the  inky  stains, 
was  so  irresistibly  comical,  that,  after  a  hard  strug- 
gle, she  too  gave  way,  and  followed  Jack's  example. 

Astonished  and  indignant  at  this  unexpected  be- 
havior of  her  sister-in-law,  Rachel  burst  into  a  fresh 
fit  of  weeping,  and  again  had  recourse  to  the  hand- 
kerchief. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  201 

"This  is  too  much!"  she  sobbed.  "I've  stayed 
here  long  enough,  if  even  my  sister-in-law,  as  well  as 
my  own  nephew,  from  whom  I  expect  nothing  better, 
makes  me  her  laughing-stock.  Brother  Timothy,  I  can 
no  longer  remain  in  your  dwelling  to  be  laughed  at ; 
I  will  go  to  the  poor-house  and  end  my  miserable  ex- 
istence as  a  common  pauper.  If  I  only  receive 
Christian  burial  when  I  leave  the  world,  it  will  be  all 
I  hope  or  expect  from  m}7  relatives,  who  will  be  glad 
enough  to  get  rid  of  me." 

Rachel  rocked  to  and  fro  in  her  sorrow,  and  finally 
removed  the  handkerchief  once  more. 

The  second  application  of  the  handkerchief  had  so 
increased  the  effect,  that  Jack  found  it  impossible  to 
check  his  laughter,  while  the  cooper,  whose  attention 
was  now  for  the  first  time  drawn  to  his  sister's  face, 
burst  out  in  a  similar  manner. 

This  more  amazed  Rachel  than  even  Martha's  mer- 
riment. 

"Even  you,  Timothy,  join  in  ridiculing  your 
sister ! "  she  exclaimed  in  an  "  Et  tu  Brute"  tone. 

"  We  don't  mean  to  ridicule  you,  Rachel,"  gasped 


202  SActfs  WARD;  oj?, 

her  sister-in-law,  with  difficulty,  "  but  we  can't  help 
laughing." 

"  At  the  prospect  of  my  deach  ! "  uttered  Rachel  in 
a  tragic  tone.  "  Well,  I'm  a  poor,  forlorn  creetur,  I 
know  ;  I  haven't  got  a  friend  in  the  world.  Even  my 
nearest  relations  make  sport  of  me,  and  when  I  speak 
of  dying,  they  shout  their  joy  to  my  face." 

"  Yes,"  gasped  Jack,  nearly  choking,  "  that's  it 
exactly.  It  isn't  your  death  we're  laughing  at,  but 
your  face." 

"  My  face!"  exclaimed  the  insulted  spinster. 
"  One  would  think  I  was  a  fright  by  the  way  you 
laugh  at  it." 

"  So  you  are!"  said  Jack,  with  a  fresh  burst  of 
laughter. 

4 'To  be  called  a  fright  to  my  face!"  shrieked 
Rachel,  "by  my  own  nephew!  This  is  too  much. 
Timothy,  I  leave  your  house  forever." 

The  excited  maiden  seized  her  hood,  which  was 
hanging  from  a  nail,  and,  hardly  knowing  what  she 
did,  was  about  to  leave  the  house  with  no  other  pro- 
tection, when  she  was  arrested  in  her  progress  to- 
wards the  door  by  the  cooper,  who  stifled  his  laughter 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN. 

sufficiently  to  say,  "  Before  you  go,  Rachel,  just  look 
in  the  glass." 

Mechanically  his  sister  did  look,  and  her  horrified 
eyes  rested  upon  a  face  streaked  with  inky  spots  and 
lines  seaming  it  in  every  direction. 

In  her  first  confusion  Rachel  did  not  comprehend 
the  nature  of  her  mishap,  but  hastily  jumped  to  the 
conclusion  that  she  had  been  suddenly  stricken  by 
some  terrible  disease  like  the  plague,  whose  ravages 
in  London  she  had  read  of  with  the  interest  which  one 
of  her  melancholy  temperament  might  be  expected  to 
find  in  it. 

Accordingly  she  began  to  wring  her  hands  in  an 
excess  of  terror,  and  exclaimed  in  tones  of  piercing 
anguish, — 

"  It  is  the  fatal  plague-spot !  I  feel  it ;  I  know  it ! 
I  am  marked  for  the  tomb.  The  sands  of  my  life  are 
fast  running  out." 

This  convulsed  Jack  afresh  with  merriment,  so  that 
an  observer  might,  not  without  reason,  have  imagined 
him  to  be  in  imminent  danger  of  suffocation. 

"  You'll  kill  me,  Aunt  Rachel !  I  know  you  will," 
he  gasped. 


204  JAC£S  WARD;  oj?, 

"  You  may  order  my  coffin,  Timothy,"  said  Rachel 
in  a  sepulchral  voice ;  I  sha'n't  live  twenty-four  hours. 
I've  felt  it  coming  on  for  a  week  past.  I  forgive  you 
for  all  your  ill-treatment.  I  should  like  to  have  some 
one  go  for  the  doctor,  though  I  know  I'm  past  help. 
I  will  go  up  to  my  chamber." 

"I  think,"  said  the  cooper,  trying  to  look  sober, 
"  you  will  find  the  cold-water  treatment  efficacious  in 
removing  the  plague-spots,  as  you  call  them." 

Rachel  turned  towards  him  with  a  puzzled  look. 
Then,  as  her  eyes  rested  for  the  first  time  upon  the 
handkerchief  she  had  used,  its  appearance  at  once 
suggested  a  clew  by  which  she  was  enabled  to  account 
for  her  own. 

Somewhat  ashamed  of  the  emotion  which  she  had 
betrayed,  as  well  as  the  ridiculous  figure  which  she 
had  cut,  she  left  the  room  abruptly,  and  did  not 
make  her  appearance  again  till  the  next  morning. 

After  this  little  episode,  the  conversation  turned 
upon  Jack's  approaching  journey. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  his  mother,  "  but  Rachel  is 
right.  Perhaps  Jack  isn't  old  enough,  and  hasn't  had 
sufficient  experience  to  undertake  such  a  mission." 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  205 

"Now,  mother,"  expostulated  Jack,  "you  aint 
going  to  side  against  me,  are  you?" 

"  There  is  no  better  plan,"  said  his  father,  quietly, 
"  and  I  have  sufficient  confidence  in  Jack's  shrewd- 
ness and  intelligence  to  believe  he  may  be  trusted  in 
this  business." 

Jack  looked  gratified  at  this  tribute  to  his  powers 
and  capacity,  and  determined  to  show  that  he  was 
deserving  of  his  father's  favorable  opinion. 

The  preliminaries  were  settled,  and  it  was  agreed 
that  he  should  set  out  early  the  next  morning.  He 
went  to  bed  with  the  brighest  anticipations,  and  with 
the  resolute  determination  to  find  Ida  if  she  were 
anywhere  in  Philadelphia, 


206  JACK'S  WARD; 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

THE  FLOWER   GIRL. 

HENRY  BOWEN  was  a  young  artist  of  moderate  tal- 
ent, who  had  abandoned  the  farm  on  which  he  had 
labored  as  a  boy,  for  the  sake  of  pursuing  his  favorite 
profession.  He  was  not  competent  to  achieve  the 
highest  success.  The  foremost  rank  in  his  profession 
was  not  for  him.  But  he  had  good  taste,  a  correct 
oye,  and  a  skilful  hand,  and  his  productions  were 
pleasing  and  popular.  A  few  months  before  his 
introduction  to  the  reader's  notice,  he  had  formed  a 
connection  with  a  publisher  of  prints  and  engravings, 
who  had  thrown  considerable  work  in  his  way. 

"Have  you  any  new  commission  to-day ?"  in- 
quired the  young  artist,  on  the  day  before  Ida's  dis- 
covery that  she  had  been  employed  to  pass  off 
spurious  coin. 

"Yes,"  said  the  publisher,  "I  have  thought  of 
something  which  I  have  thought  may  prove  attractive. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  207 

Just  at  present,  pictures  of  children  in  different  char- 
acters seem  to  be  popular.  I  should  like  to  have  you 
supply  me  with  a  sketch  of  a  flower-girl,  with,  say,  a 
basket  of  flowers  in  her  hand.  The  attitude  and 
incidentals  I  leave  to  your  taste.  The  face  must,  of 
course,  be  as  beautiful  and  expressive  as  you  can 
make  it.  Do  you  comprehend  my  idea  ?  " 

"  I  believe  I  do,"  answered  the  artist.  "  Give  me- 
sufficient  time,  and  I  hope  to  satisfy  you." 

The  young  artist  went  home,  and  at  once  set  to- 
work  upon  the  task  he  had  undertaken.  He  had  con- 
ceived that  it  would  be  an  easy  one,  but  found  him- 
self mistaken.  Whether  because  his  fancy  was  not 
sufficiently  lively,  or  his  mind  was  not  in  tune,  he  was 
unable  to  produce  the  effect  he  desired.  The  faces 
which  he  successively  outlined  were  all  stiff,  and 
though  perhaps  sufficiently  beautiful  in  feature,  lacked 
the  great  charm  of  being  expressive  and  life-like. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  me?"  he  exclaimed, 
impatiently,  throwing  down  his  pencil.     "  Is  it  im- 
possible for  me  to  succeed?    Well,  I  will  be  patient 
and  make  one  trial  more." 


208  JACK'S  WARD;  OB, 

He  made  another  trial ;  but  that  proved  as  unsatis- 
factory as  those  preceding. 

"It's  clear ,*'  he  decided,  "that  I  am  not  in  the 
vein.  I  will  go  out  and  take  a  walk,  and  perhaps 
while  I  am  in  the  street  something  may  strike  me." 

He  accordingly  donned  his  coat  and  hat,  and,  de- 
scending, emerged  into  the  great  thoroughfare,  where 
he  was  soon  lost  in  the  throng.  It  was  only  natural 
that,  as  he  walked,  with  his  task  uppermost  in  his 
thoughts,  he  should  scrutinize  carefully  the  faces  of 
such  young  girls  as  he  met. 

"  Perhaps,"  it  occurred  to  him,  "  I  may  set  a  hint 
from  some  face  I  see.  That  will  be  better  than  to  de- 
pend upon  an  exhausted  fancy.  Nothing,  after  all,  is 
equal  to  the  master-pieces  of  nature." 

But  the  young  artist  was  not  easily  suited. 

"It  is  strange,"  he  mused,  "how  few  there  are, 
even  in  the  freshness  of  childhood,  that  can  be  called 
models  of  beauty.  That  child,  for  example,  has 
beautiful  eyes,  but  a  badly  cut  mouth.  Here  is  one 
that  would  be  pretty,  if  the  face  were  rounded  out ; 
and  here  is  a  child — Heaven  help  it !  — that  was  de- 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  209 

signed  to  be  beautiful,  but  want  and  unfavorable  cir- 
cumstances have  pinched  and  cramped  it." 

It  was  at  this  point  in  the  artist's  soliloquy,  that, 
in  turning  the  corner  of  a  street,  he  came  upon  Peg 
and  Ida. 

The  artist  looked  earnestly  at  the  child's  face,  and 
his  own  lighted  up  with  sudden  pleasure,  as  one  who 
stumbles  upon  success  just  as  he  had  begun  to 
despair  of  it. 

"  The  very  face  I  have  been  looking  for !  "  he  ex- 
claimed to  himself.  "My  flower-girl  is  found  at 
last." 

He  turned  round,  and  followed  Ida  and  her  com- 
panion. Both  stopped  at  a  shop-window  to  examine 
some  articles  which  were  on  exhibition  there.  This 
afforded  a  fresh  opportunity  to  examine  Ida's  face. 

"It  is  precisely  the  face  I  want,"  he  murmured. 
"Nothing  could  be  more  appropriate  or  charming. 
With  that  face  the  success  of  the  picture  is  assured 
in  advance.  Now  comes  up  the  important  question, 
whether  this  woman,  whom  I  take  to  be  the  child's 
attendant,  will  permit  me  to  copy  her  face." 

The  artist's  inference  that  Peg  was  Ida's  attendant 
14 


210  JACK'S  WARD;  o*, 

was  natural,  since  the  child  was  dressed  in  a  style 
quite  superior  to  her  companion.  Peg  thought  that 
this  would  enable  her,  with  less  risk  and  suspicion, 
to  pass  spurious  coin. 

The  young  man  followed  the  strangely  assorted 
pair  to  the  apartments  which  Peg  occupied.  From 
the  conversation  which  he  overheard  he  learned  that 
he  had  been  mistaken  in  his  supposition  as  to  the 
relation  between  the  two,  and  that,  singular  as  it 
seemed,  Peg  had  the  guardianship  of  the  child. 
This  made  his  course  clearer.  He  mounted  the 
stairs,  and  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  What  do  you  want?"  demanded  a  sharp  voice 
from  within. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  you  just  a  moment,"  was  the 
reply. 

Peg  opened  the  door  partially,  and  regarded  the 
young  man  suspiciously. 

"  I  don't  know  you,"  she  said,  shortly.  "  I  never 
saw  you  before." 

"  I  presume  not,"  said  the  young  man,  cour- 
teously. "We  have  never  met,  I  think.  I  am  an 
artist.  I  hope  you  will  pardon  my  present  intrusion." 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  211 

"  There  is  no  use  in  your  coming  here,"  said  Peg, 
abruptly,  "  and  you  may  as  well  go  away.  You've 
come  to  the  wrong  place.  I  don't  want  to  buy  any 
pictures.  I've  got  plenty  of  better  ways  to  spend  my 
money  than  to  throw  it  away  on  such  trash." 

Certainly  no  one  would  have  thought  of  doubting 
Peg's  word,  for  she  looked  far  enough  from  being  a 
patron  of  the  arts. 

"  You  have  a  young  girl  living  with  you,  about 
seven  or  eight  years  old,  have  you  not?"  inquired 
the  artist. 

Peg  instantly  became  suspicious. 

"  Who  told  you  that?"  she  demanded,  quickly. 

"No  one  told  me,"  answered  the  young  man, 
innocently.  "  I  saw  her  in  the  street." 

Peg  at  once  conceived  the  idea  that  her  visitor 
was  aware  of  the  fact  that  the  child  had  been  lured 
away  from  home ;  possibly  he  might  be  acquainted 
with  the  cooper's  family,  or  might  be  their  emissary. 
It  was  clear  that  she  must  be  on  her  guard. 

"  Suppose  you  did  see  such  a  child  in  the  street, 
what  has  that  to  do  with  me  ?  " 

"  She  was  walking  with  you." 


212  JAC£S  WARD;  ojz, 

"People  that  are  seen  walking  together  don't 
always  live  together." 

"But  I  saw  the  child  entering  this  house  with 
you." 

"  What  if  you  did?  "  demanded  Peg,  defiantly. 

"  I  was  about,"  said  the  artist,  perceiving  that  he 
was  misapprehended,  and  desiring  to  set  matters 
right,  "I  was  about  to  make  a  proposition  which 
may  prove  advantageous  to  both  of  us." 

"Eh!"  said  Peg,  catching  at  the  hint.  "Tell 
me  what  it  is,  and  we  may  come  to  terms." 

"I  must  explain,"  said  Bowen,  "that  I  am  an 
artist.  Just  now  I  am  employed  to  sketch  a  flower- 
girl.  In  seeking  for  a  face  to  sketch  from,  I  have 
been  struck  by  that  of  your  child." 

"Of  Ida?" 

"  Yes,  if  that  is  her  name.  I  will  pay  you  five 
dollars  if  you  will  allow  me  to  copy  her  face." 

Peg  was  fond  of  money,  and  thought  there  could 
be  no  harm  in  making  five  dollars  so  easily.  The 
possibility  of  its  proving  a  means  of  discovery  to 
her  friends  never  occurred  to  her. 

"Well,"  she  said,  more  graciously,  "if  that's  all 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  213 

you  want,  I  don't  know  as  I  have  any  objections.  I 
suppose  you  can  copy  her  face  here  as  well  as  any- 
where." 

"  I  should  prefer  to  have  her  come  to  my  studio.'* 

"  I  shaVt  let  her  come,"  said  Peg,  decidedly. 

"  Then  I  will  consent  to  your  terms,  and  come 
here." 

"  Do  you  want  to  begin  now?" 

"  I  should  like  to  do  so." 

"  Come  in,  then.     Here,  Ida,  I  want  you." 

"  Yes,  Peg." 

"  This  gentleman  wants  to  copy  your  face." 

Ida  looked  surprised. 

"  I  am  an  artist,"  said  the  young  man,  with  a  reas- 
suring smile.  "I  will  endeavor  not  to  try  your 
patience  too  much,  or  keep  you  too  long.  Do  you 
think  you  can  stand  still  for  half  an  hour  without  too 
much  fatigue." 

Ida  was  easily  won  by  kindness,  though  she  had 
a  spirit  which  was  roused  by  harshness.  She  was 
prepossessed  at  once  in  the  young  man's  favor,  and 
readily  assented. 

He  kept  her  in  pleasant  conversation,  while,  with 


214  JACX'S  WARD;  OB, 

a  free,  bold  hand,  he  sketched  the  outlines  of  her 
face. 

"  I  shall  want  one  more  sitting,"  he  said.  "  I  will 
come  to-morrow  at  this  time." 

"Stop  a  minute,"  said  Peg.  "I  should  like  the 
money  in  advance.  How  do  I  know  you  will  come 
again  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  if  you  desire  it,"  said  Henry  Bowen, 
opening  his  pocket-book. 

"What  strange  fortune,"  he  thought,  "can  have 
brought  them  two  together  ?  Surely  there  can  be  no 
relation  between  this  sweet  child,  and  that  ugly  old 
woman ! " 

The  next  day  he  returned  and  completed  his  sketch, 
which  was  at  once  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  pub- 
lisher, eliciting  his  warm  approval. 


THE  EOT  GUARDIAN.  215 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

JACK   OBTAINS   INFORMATION. 

JACK  set  out  with  that  lightness  of  heart  and  keen 
sense  of  enjoyment  that  seem  natural  to  a  young  man 
of  eighteen  on  his  first  journey.  Partly  by  boat, 
partly  by  cars,  he  travelled,  till  in  a  few  hours  he  was 
discharged,  with  hundreds  of  others,  at  the  depot  in 
Philadelphia. 

Among  the  admonitions  given  to  Jack  on  leaving 
home,  two  were  prominently  in  his  mind,  —  to  beware 
of  imposition,  and  to  be  as  economical  as  possible. 

Accordingly  he  rejected  all  invitations  to  ride,  and 
strode  on,  carpet-bag  in  hand,  though,  sooth  to  say, 
he  had  very  little  idea  whether  he  was  steering  :n  the 
right  direction  for  his  uncle's  shop.  By  dint  of  dili- 
gent and  persevering  inquiry  he  found  it  at  last,  and 
walking  in,  announced  himself  to  the  worthy  baker 
as  his  nephew  Jack. 

"What,    are    you    Jack?"   exclaimed  Mr.  Abel 


216  JACK'S  WARD;  ox, 

Harding,  pausing  in  his  labor.  "Well,  I  never 
should  have  known  you,  that's  a  fact.  Bless  me,  how 
you've  grown!  Why,  you're  most  as  big  as  your 
father,  aint  you  ?  " 

"  Only  half  an  inch  shorter,"  answered  Jack,  com 
placently. 

"  And  you're  —  let  me  see,  — how  old  are  you?" 

" Eighteen;  that  is,  almost;  I  shall  be  in  two 
months." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Jack,  though  I  hadn't 
the  least  idea  of  your  raining  down  so  unexpectedly. 
How's  your  father  and  mother  and  Rachel  and  your 
adopted  sister  ?  " 

"  Father  and  mother  are  pretty  well,"  answered 
Jack,  "  and  so  is  Aunt  Rachel,"  he  continued,  smil- 
ing, "though  she  aint  so  cheerful  as  she  might  be." 

"Poor  Rachel!"  said  Abel,  smiling  also. 
"  Everything  goes  contrary  with  her.  I  don't  suppose 
she's  wholly  to  blame  for  it.  Folks  differ  constitu- 
tionally. Some  are  always  looking  on  the  bright  side 
of  things,  and  then  again  there  are  others  can  never 
see  but  one  side,  and  that's  the  dark  one." 

'You've    hit    it,    uncle,"    said    Jack,    laughing. 


THE    BOY  GUARDIAN.  217 

44  Aunt  Rachel  always  looks  as  if  she  was  attending 
a  funeral." 

"  So  she  is,"  my  boy,"  said  Abel,  gravely,"  and  a 
sad  funeral  it  is." 

"I  don't  understand  you,  uncle." 

"  The  funeral  of  her  affections  —  that's  what  I 
mean.  Perhaps  you  mayn't  know  that  Rachel  was, 
in  early  life,  engaged  to  be  married  to  a  young  man 
whom  she  ardently  loved.  She  was  a  different 
woman  then  from  what  she  is  now.  But  her  lover 
deserted  her  just  before  the  wedding  was  to  have 
come  off,  and  she's  never  got  over  the  disappoint- 
ment. But  that  isn't  what  I  was  going  to  talk  about. 
You  haven't  told  me  about  your  adopted  sister." 

"  That's  the  very  thing  I've  come  to  Philadelphia 
about,"  said  Jack,  soberly.  "  Ida  has  been  carried 
off,  and  I've  come  in  search  of  her." 

"Been  carried  off!"  exclaimed  his  uncle  in 
amazement.  "I  didn't  know  such  things  ever 
happened  in  this  country.  What  do  you  mean?" 

In  answer  to  this  question  Jack  told  the  story  of 
Mrs.  Hardwick's  arrival  with  a  letter  from  Ida's 
mother,  conveying  the  request  that  her  child  might, 


218  JACK'S  WARD;  on, 

under  the  guidance  of  the  messenger,  be  allowed  to 
pay  her  a  visit.  To  this  and  the  subsequent  details 
Abel  Harding  listened  with  earnest  attention. 

"  So  you  have  reason  to  think  the  child  is  in  Phil- 
adelphia?" he  said,  musingly. 

"Yes,"  said  Jack,  "Ida  was  seen  in  the  cars, 
coming  here,  by  a  boy  who  knew  her  in  New  York." 

"  Ida ! "  repeated  the  baker,  looking  up  suddenly. 
"  Was  that  her  name  ?  " 

"Yes  ;  you  knew  her  name,  didn't  you?" 

"  I  dare  say  I  have  known  it,  but  I  have  heard  so 
little  of  your  family  lately  that  I  had  forgotten  it. 
It  is  rather  a  singular  circumstance  ?  " 

"  What  is  a  singular  circumstance  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you,  Jack.  It  may  not  amount  to 
anything,  however.  A  few  days  since  a  little  girl 
came  into  my  shop  to  buy  a  small  amount  of  bread. 
I  was  at  once  favorably  impressed  with  her  appear- 
ance. She  was  neatly  dressed,  and  had  a  very 
honest  face. 

"  Did  she  give  her  name  ?  " 

'<  That  I  will  tell  you  by  and  by.  Having  made 
the  purchase,  she  handed  me  in  payment  a  new 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  219 

dollar  bill.  Til  keep  that  for  my  little  girl,' 
thought  I  at  once.  Accordingly,  when  I  went  home 
at  night,  I  just  took  the  dollar  out  of  the  till  and 
gave  it  to  her.  Of  course  she  was  delighted  with  it, 
and,  like  a  child,  wanted  to  spend  it  at  once.  So 
her  mother  agreed  to  go  out  with  her  the  next  day. 
Well,  they  selected  some  knick-knack  or  other,  but 
when  they  came  to  pay  for  it  the  dollar  proved 
counterfeit." 
"  Counterfeit ! " 

"  Yes,  bad.  Issued  by  a  gang  of  counterfeiters. 
When  they  told  me  of  this,  I  said  to  myself,  '  Can  it 
be  that  this  little  girl  knew  what  she  was  about 
when  she  offered  me  that  ? '  I  couldn't  think  it  pos- 
sible, but  decided  to  wait  till  she  came  again." 
"  Did  she  come  again  ?  " 

"Yes,  only  day  before  yesterday.  This  time  she 
wanted  some  gingerbread,  so  she  said.  As  I  ex- 
pected, she  offered  me  in  payment  another  dollar 
just  like  the  other.  Before  letting  her  know  that  I 
had  discovered  the  imposition  I  asked  her  one  or 
two  questions  with  the  idea  of  finding  out  as  much  as 


220  JACK'S  WARD;  oj?, 

possible  about  her.  When  I  told  her  the  bill  was  a 
bad  one,  she  seemed  very  much  surprised.  It  might 
have  been  all  acting,  but  I  didn't  think  so  then.  I 
even  felt  pity  for  her,  and  let  her  go  on  condition 
that  she  would  bring  me  back  a  good  dollar  in  place 
of  the  bad  one  the  next  day.  I  suppose  I  was  a 
fool  for  doing  so,  but  she  looked  so  pretty  and 
innocent  that  I  couldn't  make  up  my  mind  to  speak 
or  act  harshly  to  her.  But  I  am  afraid  that  I  was 
deceived,  and  that  she  was  an  artful  character  after 
all." 

"Then  she  didn't  come  back  with  the  good 
money?"  said  Jack. 

"  No ;  I  haven't  seen  her  since,  and  I  hardly  think 
now  that  she  will  be  likely  to  come  again." 

"  What  name  did  she  give  you? " 

"  Haven't  I  told  you?  It  was  the  name  that  made 
me  think  of  telling  you.  She  called  herself  Ida 
Hardwick." 

"Ida  Hardwick!"  repeated  Jack,  bounding  from 
his  chair,  somewhat  to  his  uncle's  alarm. 

"Yes,  Ida  Hardwick.  But  that  hasn't  anything 
to  do  with  your  Ida,  has  it?" 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  221 

"Hasn't  it,  though?"  said  Jack.  "Why,  Mrs. 
Hardwick  was  the  woman  who  carried  her  away." 

"  Mrs.  Hardwick — her  mother ! " 

"  No,  not  her  mother.  She  was,  or  at  least  said 
she  was,  the  woman  who  took  care  of  Ida  before  she 
was  brought  to  us." 

"  Then  you  think  this  Ida  Hardwick  may  be  your 
missing  sister  ?  " 

"  That's  what  I  don't  know  yet,"  said  Jack.  "  If 
you  would  only  describe  her,  Uncle  Abel,  I  could 
tell  better." 

"Well,"  said  the  baker,  thoughtfully,  "I  should 
say  this  little  girl  was  seven  or  eight  years  old. 

"Yes,"  said  Jack,  nodding;  "what  color  were 
her  eyes?" 

"Blue." 

"So  are  Ida's." 

"A  small  mouth,  with  a  very  sweet  expression, 
yet  with  something  firm  and  decided  about  it." 

"Yes." 

•4  And  I  believe  her  dress  was  a  light  one,  with  a 
blue  ribbon  round  the  waist." 

"  Did  she  wear  anything  around  her  neck?" 


JACK'S  WARD;  OR, 

"  A  brown  scarf,  if  I  remember  rightly." 

"That  is  exactly  the  way  Ida  was  dressed  when 
she  went  away  with  Mrs.  Hardwick.  I  am  sure  it 
must  be  she.  But  how  strange  she  came  into  your 
shop ! " 

"Perhaps,"  suggested  his  uncle,  u  this  woman, 
though  representing  herself  as  Ida's  nurse,  was  really 
her  mother. " 

"  No,  it  can't  be,"  said  Jack,  vehemently. 
"What,  that  ugly,  disagreeable  woman,  Ida's 
mother !  I  won't  believe  it.  I  should  just  as  soon 
expect  to  see  strawberries  growing  on  a  thorn-bush. 
There  isn't  the  least  resemblance  between  them." 

"  You  know  I  have  not  seen  Mrs.  Hardwick,  so  I 
cannot  judge  on  that  point." 

"No  great  loss,"  said  Jack.  "You  wouldn't 
care  much  about  seeing  her  again.  She  is  a  tall, 
gaunt,  disagreeable  woman;  while  Ida  is  fair  and 
sweet  looking.  Ida's  mother,  whoever  she  is,  I  am 
sure,  is  a  lady  in  appearance  and  manners,  and  Mrs. 
Hardwick  is  neither.  I  took  a  dislike  to  her  when  I 
first  saw  her.  Aunt  Rachel  was  right  for  once." 

"  What  did  Rachel  say?  " 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  223 

"  She  said  the  nurse  was  an  impostor,  and  declared 
it  was  only  a  plot  to  get  possession  of  Ida  ;  but  then, 
that  was  to  be  expected  of  Aunt  Rachel." 

"  Still  it  seems  difficult  to  imagine  any  satisfactory 
motive  on  the  part  of  the  woman,  supposing  her  not 
to  be  Ida's  mother." 

"Mother  or  not,"  returned  Jack,  "  she's  got  pos- 
session of  Ida  ;  and,  from  all  that  you  say,  she  is  not 
the  best  person  to  bring  her  up.  I  am  determined 
to  rescue  Ida  from  this  she-dragon.  Will  you  help 
me,  uncle?" 

"  You  may  count  upon  me,  Jack,  for  all  I  can  do." 

"Then,"  said  Jack  with  energy,  "we  shall 
succeed.  I  feel  sure  of  it.  c  Where  there's  a  wiD 
there's  a  way,'  you  know,  uncle." 

"  I  wish  you  success,  Jack ;  but  if  the  people  who 
have  got  Ida  are  counterfeiters;  they  are  desperate 
characters,  and  you  must  proceed  cautiously." 

"I  aint  afraid  of  them,"  said  Jack,  confidently. 
"  I'm  on  the  war-path  now,  Uncle  Abel,  and  they'd 
better  look  out  for  me." 


224  JActfs  WARD;  012, 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 


THE  first  thing  to  be  done  by  Jack  was,  of  course, 
in  some  way  to  obtain  a  clew  to  the  whereabouts  of 
Peg,  or  Mrs.  Hard  wick,  to  use  the  name  by  which  he 
knew  her.  No  mode  of  proceeding  likely  to  secure 
this  result  occurred  to  him,  beyond  the  very  obvious 
one  of  keeping  in  the  street  as  much  as  possible,  in 
the  hope  that  chance  might  bring  him  face  to  face 
with  the  object  of  his  pursuit. 

There  was  not  much  chance  of  his  failing  to  recog- 
nize her.  Her  face  was  so  accurately  photographed 
in  his  memory,  that  he  felt  certain  he  should  know 
her  at  once,  under  whatever  circumstances  they  might 
chance  to  meet, 

Following  out  this  plan,  Jack  became  a  daily 
promenader  in  Chestnut,  "Walnut,  and  other  leading 
thoroughfares.  Jack  became  himself  an  object  of 
attention,  on  account  of  what  appeared  to  be  his 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  225 

singular  behavior.  It  was  observed  that  he  had  no 
glances  to  spare  for  young  ladies,  but  persistently 
stared  at  the  faces  of  all  middle-aged  or  elderly 
women  whom  he  met  —  a  circumstance  naturally 
calculated  to  attract  remark  in  the  case  of  a  well- 
made  lad  like  Jack. 

Several  days  passed ;  and  although  he  only  returned 
to  his  uncle's  house  at  the  hour  of  meals,  he  had  the 
same  report  to  bring  on  each  occasion. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  the  baker,  "  it  will  be  as  hard 
as  looking  for  a  needle  in  a  hay-stack,  to  find  the  one 
you  seek  among  so  many  faces." 

"  There's  nothing  like  trying,"  said  Jack,  courage- 
ously. "  I'm  not  going  to  give  up  yet  a  while.  I'd 
know  Ida  or  Mrs.  Hardwick  anywhere." 

"You  ought  to  write  home,  Jack.  They  will  be 
getting  anxious  about  you." 

"I'm  going  to  write  this  morning  —  I  put  it  off, 
because  I  hoped  to  have  some  news  to  write.  How- 
ever, I  won't  wait  any  longer,  or  Aunt  Rachel  will 
be  sure  some  awful  accident  has  happened  to  me." 

He  sat  down  and  wrote  the  following  note :  — 
15 


JACK'S  WARD;  ox, 

PARENTS:  —  I  arrived  in  Philadelphia 
right  side  up  with  care,  and  am  stopping  at  Uncle 
Abel's.  He  received  me  very  kindly.  I  have  got 
track  of  Ida,  though  I  have  not  found  her  yet.  I 
have  learned  as  much  as  this :  that  this  Mrs.  Hard- 
wick —  who  is  a  doubled-distilled  she-rascal,  —  pro- 
bably has  Ida  in  her  clutches  ;  and  has  sent  her  on 
two  occasions  to  my  uncle's.  I  am  spending  most 
of  my  time  in  the  streets,  keeping  a  good  look-out  for 
her.  If  I  do  meet  her,  see  if  I  don't  get  Ida  away 
from  her.  But  it  may  take  some  time.  Don't  get 
discouraged,  therefore,  but  wait  patiently.  When- 
ever anything  new  turns  up,  you  will  receive  a  line 
from  your  dutiful  son, 

"  JACK." 

In  reply  to  this  letter,  or  rather  note,  his  father 
wrote  him  to  spare  no  time  or  pains  as  long  as  there 
remained  a  chance  to  recover  Ida. 

Jack  had  been  in  the  city  eight  days,  when,  as  he 
was  sauntering  along  the  street,  he  suddenly  per- 
ceived in  front  of  him,  a  shawl  which  struck  him  as 
wonderfully  like  the  one  worn  by  Mrs.  Hardwick, 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  227 

Not  only  that,  but  the  form  of  the  wearer  corre- 
sponded to  his  recollections  of  the  nurse.  Full  of 
hope  that  it  might  be  she,  he  bounded  forward,  and 
rapidly  passing  the  suspected  person,  turned  suddenly 
round,  and  confronted  the  woman  of  whom  he  had 
been  in  search. 

The  recognition  was  mutual.  Peg  was  taken  aback 
by  this  unexpected  encounter. 

Her  first  impulse  was  to  make  off,  but  Jack's  reso- 
lute expression  warned  her  that  he  was  not  to  be 
trifled  with. 

"  Mrs.  Hard  wick  I"  exclaimed  Jack. 

11  You  are  right,"  said  she,  rapidly  recovering  her 
composure,  "  and  you,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  are 
John  Harding,  the  son  of  my  worthy  friends  in  New 
York." 

"  Well,"  ejaculated  Jack,  internally,  "  she's  a  cool 
'un,  and  no  mistake." 

"  My  name  is  Jack,"  he  said  aloud. 

"  Did  you  leave  all  well  at  home?"  asked  Peg, 
composedly. 

"  You  can't  guess  what  I  came  here  for  ?  'r  said  Jack, 
not  thinking  it  necessary  to  answer  the  polite  inquiry. 


228  JACJfs  WARD;  OR, 

"  To  see  your  sister  Ida,  I  persume,"  said  Mrs. 
Hardwick. 

1  'Yes,"  answered  Jack,  amazed  at  the  woman's 
composure. 

"  I  thought  some  of  you  would  be  coming  on," 
continued  Peg,  whose  prolific  genius  had  already 
mapped  out  her  course. 

"You  did?" 

"  Yes,  it  was  only  natural.  What  did  your 
father  and  mother  say  to  the  letter  I  wrote  them  ?  " 

"  The  letter  you  wrote  them !  "  exclaimed  Jack,  in 
fresh  bewilderment. 

4 «  Certainly.     You  got  it,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  letter  you  mean." 

"  A  letter  in  which  I  wrote  that  Ida's  mother  had 
been  so  pleased  with  the  appearance  and  manners 
of  the  child,  that  she  could  not  determine  to  part 
with  her,  but  had  determined  to  keep  her  for  the 
present." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say,  that  any  such  letter  as 
that  has  been  written?"  said  Jack,  incredulously. 

"What,  —  has  it  not  been  received?"  inquired 
Peg,  in  the  greatest  apparent  astonishment 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  229 

"Nothing  like  it,"  answered  Jack.  "When  was 
it  written?" 

"  The  second  day  after  our  arrival,"  said  Peg,  un- 
hesitatingly. 

"  If  that  is  the  case,"  said  Jack,  not  knowing  what 
to  think,"  it  must  have  miscarried,  for  we  never  re 
ceived  it." 

"  That  is  a  pity.  How  anxious  you  all  must  have 
felt ! "  said  Mrs.  Hardwick,  sympathizingly. 

' '  It  seems  as  if  half  the  family  were  gone.  But  how 
long  does  Ida's  mother  mother  mean  to  keep  her  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  six  months." 

"But,"  said  Jack,  his  suspicions  returning,  "I 
have  been  told  that  Ida  has  twice  called  at  a  baker's 
shop  in  this  city,  and  when  asked  what  her  name  was, 
answered,  Ida  Hardwick?  You  don't  mean  to  say 
that  you  pretend  to  be  her  mother." 

"Yes,  I  do,"  replied  Peg,  calmly.  "I  didn'1 
mean  to  tell  you,  but  as  you've  found  out,  I  won't 
deny  it." 

"It's  a  lie,"  said  Jack,  indignantly.  "  She  isn't 
your  daughter." 

"  Young  man,"  said  Peg,  with  wonderful  self-corn- 


230  JACK'S  WARD;  OR, 

mand,  "you  are  exciting  yourself  to  no  purpose. 
You  asked  me  if  I  pretended  to  be  her  mother.  I  do 
pretend,  but  I  admit  frankly  that  it  is  all  pretence." 

"  I  don't  understand  what  you  mean,"  said  Jack, 
mystified. 

"  Then  I  will  take  the  trouble  to  explain  to  you, 
though  you  have  treated  me  so  impolitely  that  I  might 
well  refuse.  As  I  informed  your  father  and  mother  in 
New  York,  there  are  circumstances  which  stand  in 
the  way  of  Ida's  real  mother  recognizing  her  as  her 
own  child.  Still,  as  she  desires  her  company,  in 
order  to  avert  suspicion  and  prevent  embarrassing 
questions  being  asked  while  she  remains  in  Philadel- 
phia, she  to  is  pass  as  my  daughter." 

This  explanation  was  tolerably  plausible,  and  Jack 
was  unable  to  gainsay  it,  though  it  was  disagreeable 
for  him  to  think  of  even  a  nominal  connection  be- 
tween Ida  and  the  woman  before  him. 

' «  Can  I  see  Ida?  "  he  asked. 

"To  his  great  joy,"  Peg  replied,  "I  don't  think 
there  can  be  any  objection.  I  am  going  to  the  house 
now.  Will  you  come  with  me  now,  or  appoint  some 
other  time." 


THK  EOT  GUARDIAN.  231 

"Now,  by  all  means,"  said  Jack,  eagerly. 
"  Nothing  shall  stand  in  the  way  of  my  seeing  Ida." 

A  grim  smile  passed  over  Peg's  face. 

"  Follow  me,  then,"  she  said.  "  I  have  no  doubt 
Ida  will  be  delighted  to  see  you." 

"Dear  Ida!"  said  Jack.  "Is  she  well,  Mrs. 
Hardwick?" 

1  'Perfectly  well,"  answered  Peg.  "She  has  en- 
joyed perfect  health  ever  since  she  came  to  Philadel- 
phia." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Jack,  with  a  pang,  "that  she  is 
so  taken  up  with  her  new  Mends,  that  she  has  nearly 
forgotten  her  old  friends  in  New  York." 

"  If  she  had,"  answered  Peg,  sustaining  her  part 
with  admirable  self-possession,  "  she  would  not  de- 
serve to  have  friends  at  all.  She  is  quite  happy  here, 
but  she  will  be  very  glad  to  return  to  New  York  to 
those  who  have  been  so  kind  to  her." 

"Really,"  thought  Jack,  "I  don't  know  what  to 
make  of  this  Mrs.  Hardwick.  She  talks  fair  enough, 
though  her  looks  are  against  her.  Perhaps  I  have 
misjudged  her,  after  all." 


232  JAC&S  WARD; 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

CAUGHT   IN  A  TRAP. 

JACK  and  Ms  guide  paused  in  front  of  a  large 
three-story  brick  building. 

"  Does  Ida's  mother  live  here?  "  interrogated  Jack. 

"Yes,"  answered  Peg,  promptly.  "Follow  me 
up  the  steps  if  you  want  to  see  your  sister." 

The  woman  led  the  way,  and  Jack  followed,  sus- 
pecting nothing. 

The  former  rang  the  bell.  An  untidy  servant  girl 
made  her  appearance. 

Mrs.  Hardwick  spoke  to  the  servant  in  so  low  a 
voice  that  Jack  couldn't  hear  what  she  said. 

"  Certainly,  mum,"  answered  the  servant,  and  led 
the  way  upstairs  to  a  back  room  on  the  third  floor. 

"  Go  in  and  take  a  seat,"  she  said  to  Peg.  "  I 
will  send  Ida  to  you  immediately." 

"  All  right ! "  said  Jack,  in  a  tone  of  satisfaction. 

Peg  went  out,  closing  the  door  after  her.     She,  at 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  233 

the  same  time,  softly  slipped  a  bolt  which  had  been 
placed  upon  the  outside.  Then  hastening  downstairs 
she  found  the  proprietor  of  the  house,  a  little  old 
man  with  a  shrewd,  twinkling  eye,  and  a  long 
aquiline  nose. 

"  I  have  brought  you  a  boarder,"  she  said. 

"  Who  is  it?" 

"A  lad,  who  is  likely  to  interfere  in  our  plans. 
You  may  keep  him  in  confinement  for  the  present." 

"Very  good,"  said  the  old  man,  shrugging  his 
shoulders.  "Is  he  likely  to  make  a  fuss." 

"I  should  think  it  very  likely.  He  is  high- 
spirited  and  impetuous,  but  you  know  how  to  man- 
age him." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  nodded  the  old  man. 

"  You  can  think  of  some  pretext  for  keeping  him. 
He'll  ask  an  explanation." 

"Suppose  I  tell  him  he's  in  a  mad-house?"  said 
the  old  man,  laughing,  and  thereby  showing  some 
yellow  fangs,  which  by  no  means  improved  his 
appearance. 

"  Just  the  thing !     It'll  frighten  him." 

"  We'll  take  care  of  him.     Don't  be  troubled." 


234  JACJ^S  WARD;  OB, 

There  was  a  little  further  conversation  in  a  low 
tone,  and  then  Peg  went  away. 

"  Fairly  trapped,  my  young  bird ! "  she  thought  to 
herself.  "  I  think  that  will  put  a  stop  to  your 
troublesome  appearance  for  the  present.  You 
haven't  lived  quite  long  enough  to  be  a  match  for 
old  Peg.  You'll  find  that  out  after  a  while." 

Meanwhile  Jack,  wholly  unsuspicious  that  any 
trick  had  been  played  upon  him,  seated  himself  in  a 
rocking-chair,  and  waited  impatiently  for  the  coming 
of  Ida,  whom  he  was  resolved  to  carry  back  to  New 
York  if  his  persuasions  would  effect  it. 

Impelled  by  a  natural  curiosity,  he  examined  at- 
tentively the  room  in  which  he  was  seated.  It  was 
furnished  passably  well.  There  was  a  plain  carpet 
on  the  floor,  and  the  other  furniture  was  that  of  an 
ordinary  bed-chamber.  The  most  conspicuous  orna- 
ment was  a  large  full-length  portrait  against  the 
side  of  the  wall.  It  represented  an  unknown  man, 
not  particularly  striking  in  his  appearance.  There 
was,  besides,  a  small  table  with  two  or  three  books 
upon  it. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  235 

Jack  waited  patiently  for  twenty  minutes.  Then 
he  began  to  grow  impatient. 

"  Perhaps  Ida  may  be  out,"  he  reflected.  "  Still, 
even  if  she  is,  Mrs.  Hardwick  ought  to  come  and 
let  me  know.  It's  dull  work  staying  here  alone." 

Another  fifteen  minutes  passed,  and  still  no  Ida 
appeared. 

"This  is  rather  singular,"  thought  Jack.  "She 
can't  have  told  Ida  I  am  here,  or  I  am  sure  she 
would  rush  up  at  once  to  see  her  brother  Jack." 

At  length,  tired  of  waiting,  and  under  the  im- 
pression that  he  had  been  forgotten,  Jack  walked  to 
the  door,  and  placing  his  hand  upon  the  latch, 
attempted  to  open  it. 

There  was  a  greater  resistance  than  he  anticipated. 

Supposing  that  it  must  stick,  he  used  increased 
exertion,  but  the  door  perversely  refused  to  open. 

"Good  heavens?"  thought  Jack,  in  consterna- 
tion, as  the  real  state  of  the  case  flashed  upon  him, 
44  is  it  possible  that  I  am  locked  in?" 

To  determine  this,  he  employed  all  his  strength, 
but  the  door  still  resisted,  He  could  no  longer  doubt 
that  it  was  locked. 

• 


JACK'S  WARD;  os, 

He  rushed  to  the  windows.  They  were  two  in 
number,  and  looked  out  upon  a  yard  in  the  rear  of 
the  house.  No  part  of  the  street  was  visible  from 
them;  therefore  there  was  no  hope  of  drawing  the 
attention  of  passers-by  to  his  situation. 

Confounded  by  this  discovery,  Jack  sank  into  his 
chair  in  no  very  enviable  state  of  mind. 

"  Well,"  thought  he,  "  this  is  a  pretty  situation  for 
me  to  be  in !  I  wonder  what  father  would  say  if  he 
knew  that  I  had  managed  to  get  locked  up  like  this  ? 
I  am  ashamed  to  think  I  let  that  treacherous  woman, 
Mrs.  Hardwick,  lead  me  so  quietly  into  a  snare. 
Aunt  Eachel  was  about  right  when  she  said  I  wasn't 
fit  to  come  alone.  I  hope  she'll  never  find  out  about 
this  adventure  of  mine.  If  she  did,  I  should  never 
hear  the  last  of  it." 

Jack's  mortification  was  extreme.  His  self-love 
was  wounded  by  the  thought  that  a  woman  had  got 
the  better  of  him ;  and  he  resolved,  if  he  ever  got  out, 
that  he  would  make  Mrs.  Hardwick  suffer,  he  didn't 
quite  know  how,  for  the  manner  in  which  she  had  de- 
ceived him. 


THE  £OT  GUARDIAN.  237 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

DR.   ROBINSON. 

TIME  passed.  Every  hour  seemed  to  poor  Jack  to 
Contains  at  least  double  the  number  of  minutes  that 
are  usually  reckoned  to  that  division  of  time.  More- 
over, not  having  eaten  for  several  hours,  he  was  get- 
ting hungry. 

A  horrible  suspicion  flashed  across  his  mind. 

**  The  wretches  can't  mean  to  starve  me,  can  they  ?  " 
he  asked  himself.  Despite  his  constitutional  courage 
he  could  not  help  shuddering  at  the  idea. 

He  was  unexpectedly  answered  by  the  unexpected 
opening  of  the  door,  and  the  appearance  of  the  old 
man  whose  interview  with  Mrs.  Hardwick  has  already 
been  reported. 

"Are  you  getting  hungry,  my  dear  sir?"  he  in- 
quired, with  a  disagreeable  smile  upon  his  features. 

"Why  am  I  confined  here?"  demanded  Jack, 
angrily. 


238  jACifs  WARD;  GJZ, 

"  Why  are  you  confined?  "  repeated  his  interlocutor, 
"  Eeally,  one  would  think  you  didn't  find  your  quar- 
ters comfortable." 

"  I  am  so  far  from  finding  them  agreeable,  that  I  in- 
sist upon  leaving  them  immediately,"  returned  Jack* 

"  Then  all  you  have  got  to  do  is  to  walk  through 
that  door." 

"  You  have  locked  it." 

"  Why,  so  I  have,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a  disa- 
greeable leer. 

"  I  insist  upon  your  opening  it." 

"  I  shall  do  so  when  I  get  ready  to  go  out,  myself." 

"  I  shall  go  with  you." 

" 1  think  not." 

"Who's  to  prevent  me?"  said  Jack,  defiantly. 

He  felt  that  he  was  stronger  than  the  old  man,  and 
though  he  did  not  want  to  come  into  collision  with  one 
BO  much  older  than  himself,  yet,  if  necessary,  he 
determined  to  make  use  of  his  strength. 

"  Who's  to  prevent  you?" 

"  Yes ;  you'd  better  not  attempt  it.  I  should  be 
Bony  to  hurt  you,  but  I  mean  to  go  out.  If  you 


TRE  EOT  GUARDIAN. 

attempt  to  stop  me,  you  must  take  the  conse- 
quences." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  a  violent  young  man.  But 
I've  got  a  man  just  outside  the  door  who  is  a  match 
for  two  like  you." 

"Is  that  true?" 

"  I'll  show  you." 

"  The  old  man  opened  the  door." 

"  Samuel,  show  yourself,"  he  said. 

A  brawny  negro,  six  feet  in  height,  and  evidently 
very  powerful,  came  to  the  entrance. 

"If  this  young  man  attempts  to  escape,  Samuel, 
what  will  you  do  ?  " 

"  Tie  him  hand  and  foot,"  answered  the  negro. 

"  That'll  do,  Samuel.     Stay  where  you  are." 

He  closed  the  door,  and  looked  triumphantly  at 
our  hero. 

Jack  threw  himself  sullenly  into  a  chair. 

"Where  is  the  woman  that  brought  me  here?"  he 
asked. 

"  Peg?  Oh,  she  couldn't  stay  She  had  important 
business  to  transact,  my  young  friend,  and  so  she  has 
gone ;  but  don't  feel  anxious.  She  commended  you 


240  JACK'S  WARD;  OR, 

to  our  particular  attention,  and  you  will  be  just  as 
well  treated  as  if  she  were  here." 

This  assurance  was  not  very  well  calculated  to 
comfort  Jack. 

"How  long  are  you  going  to  keep  me  cooped  up 
here?"  he  asked  desperately,  wishing  to  learn  the 
worst  at  once. 

"  Really,  my  young  friend,  I  couldn't  say.  I  don't 
know  how  long  it  will  be  before  you  are  cured." 

"  Cured?  "  repeated  Jack,  puzzled. 

"Yes;  it  wouldn't  be  safe  for  you  to  go  at 
present." 

"Why  wouldn't  it?" 

The  old  man  tapped  his  forehead. 

"  You're  a  little  affected,  here,  you  know,  but  under 
my  treatment  I  hope  soon  to  restore  you  to  your 
friends  quite  recovered.'* 

"What!"  ejaculated  our  hero,  terror-stricken, 
"you  don't  mean  to  say  you  think  I'm  crazy?" 

"To  be  sure  you  are,"  said  the  old  man,  confi- 
dently, "but—" 

"  But  I  tell  you  it's  a  lie,"  exclaimed  Jack,  ener- 
getically. "Who  told  you  so?" 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  241 

:four  aunt." 

44 My  aunt?" 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Hardwick.  She  brought  you  here  to 
be  treated  for  insanity. 

"  It's  a  base  lie,"  said  Jack,  hotly.  *'  That  woman 
is  no  more  my  aunt  than  you  are.  She's  an  impostor. 
She  carried  off  my  sister  Ida,  and  this  is  only  a 
plot  to  get  rid  of  me.  She  told  me  she  was  going  to 
take  me  to  see  Ida." 

The  old  man  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"My  young  friend,"  he  said,  "she  told  me  all 
about  it  —  that  you  had  a  delusion  about  some  sup- 
posed sister,  whom  you  accused  her  of  carrying  off. 
That's  your  delusion." 

"  This  is  outrageous,"  said  Jack,  hotly.  "  Do  you 
really  believe  what  that  woman  tells  you?  Why,  I 
am  as  sane  as  you  are.  I've  come  on  from  New  York 
to  recover  my  sister  whom  she  carried  away." 

"  No  doubt  you  think  so.  She  told  me  the  de- 
lusion was  very  strong.  You  must  try  to  get  rid 
of  it." 

Poor  Jack!  He  was  thoroughly  exasperated,  to 
16 


242  JACK'S  WARD;  OR, 

think  that  such  an  abominable  story  was  believed  by 
the  old  man. 

"  Send  for  my  Uncle  Abel ;  he  lives  in  this  city," 
he  said.  "  He'll  tell  you  it's  all  true." 

"  It  would  be  of  no  use,"  said  the  old  man.  "  I 
haven't  time  to  inquire  into  the  delusions  of  all  my 
patients.  Why,  there's  one  woman  here  insists  that 
she  is  the  President's  mother-in-law,  and  wants  me 
to  go  to  Washington  and  inquire  into  the  matter." 

"  Of  course  that  is  absurd." 

"  That's  what  all  my  patients  say  about  the  delu- 
sions of  the  rest.  You  see,  my  dear  young  friend,  I 
really  cannot  comply  with  your  request." 

"  What's  your  name?"  asked  Jack,  abruptly. 

"  Dr.  Robinson." 

"  And  you  are  a  mad-doctor? " 

"Yes." 

"  Then  you  ought  to  know  by  my  looks  that  I  am 
not  crazy." 

" Pardon  me,  my  young  friend;  that  doesn't 
follow.  There  is  a  peculiar  appearance  about  youi 
eyes  which  I  cannot  mistake.  I  have  seen  it  too 
often  in  those  whose  minds  are  aflected.  There's  no 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  243 

mistake  about  it,  my  good  sir.  Your  mind  has  gone 
astray,  but  if  you'll  be  quiet,  and  won't  excite 
yourself,  you'll  soon  be  well." 

"How  soon?" 

"  Well,  two  or  three  months." 

"  Two  or  three  months !  You  don't  mean  to  say 
you  want  to  confine  me  here  two  or  three  months." 

"  I  hope  I  can  release  you  sooner.  It  will  depend 
upon  bow  fast  you  improve." 

Jack  looked  blank  enough  at  this  announcement. 
It  never  occurred  to  him  to  doubt  that  the  old  man 
was,  what  he  pretended  to  be,  a  physician,  and  the 
proprietor  of  an  asylum  for  the  insane. 

"  Is  this  an  insane  asylum?  "  he  asked. 

uWhy,  not  exactly.  I  take  a  few  patients ;  that 
is  all." 

"  You  can't  understand  your  business  very  well, 
or  you  would  see  at  once  that  I  am  not  insane." 

"  That's  what  all  my  patients  say.  They  won't 
any  of  them  own  that  their  minds  are  affected." 

Jack  reflected. 

"  May  I  write  a  letter?"  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  certainly,  anything  in  reason.' 


244  JACE?S  WARD;  oj?, 

"I  want  to  write  to  my  uncle  to  come  here  and 
convince  you  that  it  is  all  a  mistake." 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  see  your  uncle,"  said  Dr. 
Robinson,  as  he  called  himself. 

uWill  you  supply  me  with  some  writing  mate- 
rials?" 

"  Yes  ;  Samuel  shall  bring  them  here." 

"  I  suppose  you  will  excuse  my  suggesting  also 
that  it  is  dinner-time." 

"  He  shall  bring  you  some  dinner  at  the  same 
time." 

With  this  Jack  had  to  be  satisfied. 

The  old  man  retired,  but  in  fifteen  minutes  a  plate 
of  meat  and  vegetables  was  brought  to  the  room. 

"I'll  bring  the  pen  and  ink  afterwards,"  said  the 
negro. 

In  spite  of  his  extraordinary  situation  and  uncer- 
tain prospects,  Jack  ate  with  his  usual  appetite. 

Then  he  penned  a  letter  to  his  uncle,  briefly 
detailing  the  circumstances  of  his  present  situation, 
and  imploring  his  uncle  to  come  at  once  and  explain 
to  the  doctor  that  he  stood  in  no  need  of  his  care. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  the  letter  concluded,  "  that  while  I 


THE  SOY  GUARDIAN.  245 

am  shut  up  here,  Mrs.  Hardwick  will  carry  Ida  out 
of  the  city,  where  it  will  be  more  difficult  for  us  to 
get  on  her  track.  She  is  evidently  a  dangerous  and 
unprincipled  woman." 

Two  days  passed  and  no  notice  was  taken  of  the 
letter,  which  Dr.  Robinson  had  promised  to  send  by  a 
special  messenger. 

Jack  got  impatient.  How  should  he  know  that  the 
letter  had  been  quietly  suppressed,  and  that  his 
Uncle  Abel  was  entirely  ignorant  about  his  present 
condition  or  whereabouts.  In  fact  the  letter  had 
been  burned,  and  all  his  time  spent  m  composing  it 
had  been  thrown  aw«y. 


246  JACX?S  WARD;  on, 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

JACK  BEGINS   TO   REAJLIZE  HIS    SITUATION. 

"  IT'S  very  strange,"  thought  Jack,  "  that  Uncle 
Abel  doesn't  take  any  notice  of  my  letter." 

In  fact,  our  hero  felt  rather  indignant,  as  well  as 
surprised,  and  on  the  next  visit  of  Dr.  Robinson,  he 
|sked,  "  Hasn't  my  uncle  been  here  to  ask  about 
me?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  man,  unexpectedly. 

"  When  did  he  call?"  asked  Jack,  eagerly. 

"  Yesterday." 

'"  Why  didn't  you  bring  him  up  here  to  see  me  ?  " 

"  He  just  inquired  how  you  were,  and  said  he 
thought  yo:i  were  better  off  with  us  than  you  would 
be  at  home." 

"  Did  you  tell  him  I  was  crazy?  "  demanded  Jack, 
angrily. 

"  Yes. 

"And  did  he  believe  it?" 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  247 

"  To  be  sure  he  did !    Why  shouldn't  he  ?  " 

Jack  looked  fixedly  in  the  face  of  the  pretended 
doctor,  and  what  he  saw  there  convinced  him  that 
he  had  been  deceived. 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  he  said. 

"  Don't  believe  what?" 

"  That  my  uncle  has  been  here  at  all." 

"  Oh,  do  as  you  like  about  believing  it,"  said  the 
old  man,  indifferently. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  mailed  my  letter  to  my  uncle 
at  all." 

"Have  it  your  own  way,  my  young  friend.  Of 
course  I  can't  argue  with  a  maniac." 

"Don't  call  me  a  maniac,  you  old  humbug!"  ex- 
claimed Jack  in  great  excitement.  "You  ought  to 
be  in  jail  for  this  outrage." 

"Ho,  ho  !  How  very  amusing  you  are,  my  young 
friend!"  said  the  old  man.  "You'd  make  a  first- 
class  tragedian,  you  really  would." 

"  I  might  lo  something  tragic,  if  I  had  a  weapon," 
said  Jack,  significantly.  "  Are  you  going  to  let  me 
out?" 

"  Positively,  I  can't  part  with  you.    You  are  too 


248  JACK'S  WARD;  OR> 

good  company,"   said  Doctor  Robinson,  mockingly 
"  You'll  thank  me  for  my  care  of  you  when  you  are 
quite  cured." 

"  That's  all  rubbish,"  said  Jack,  boldly.  "  I'm  no 
more  crazy  than  you  are,  and  you  know  it.  Will  you 
answer  me  a  question  ?  " 

4 'It  depends  on  what  it  is,"  said  the  old  man, 
cautiously. 

"Has  that  woman  —  Mrs.  Hardwick  —  been  here 
to  ask  about  me  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  she  has.  She  takes  a  great  deal  of 
interest  in  you." 

"  Was  there  a  little  girl  with  her?  " 

"  I  believe  so.     I  really  don't  remember." 

"If  she  calls  again,  either  with  or  without  Ida, 
will  you  ask  her  to  come  up  here.  I  want  to  see  her." 

"  Yes,  I'll  tell  her.  Now,  my  young  friend,  I  must 
really  leave  you.  Business  before  pleasure,  you 
know." 

"  How  I  detest  that  old  humbug ! "  thought  Jack, 
as  the  old  man  went  out  of  the  room.  "  What  can 
be  his  object  in  keeping  me  here,  and  what  has  he 
to  do  with  Mrs.  Hardwick?  " 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  249 

Jack  found  it  easier  to  ask  than  to  answer  these 
questions.  Tiled  of  thinking  about  the  subject,  he 
looked  about  the  room  for  something  to  read.  He 
found  among  other  books  a  small  volume,  purporting 
to  contain  '*  The  Adventures  of  Baron  Trenck." 

It  may  be  that  the  reader  has  never  encountered  a 
copy  of  this  singular  book.  Baron  Trenck  was  several 
times  imprisoned  for  political  offences,  and  this  book 
contains  an  account  of  the  manner  in  which  he  succeed- 
ed, after  years  of  labor,  in  escaping  from  his  dungeon. 

Jack  read  the  book  with  intense  interest.  It  was* 
just  such  a  one  as  he  would  have  read  with  avidity 
under  any  circumstances.  It  gratified  his  taste  for 
adventure,  and  he  entered  heart  and  soul  into  the 
Baron's  plans  and  felt  a  thrill  of  gratification  when 
he  succeeded.  When  he  completed  the  perusal  of 
this  fascinating  volume,  he  asked  himself,  "Why 
cannot  I  imitate  Baron  Trenck  ?  He  was  far  worse 
off  than  I  am.  If  he  could  succeed  in  overcoming 
so  many  obstacles,  it  is  a  pity  if  I  can't  find  some 
means  of  escape." 

He  looked  about  the  room  in  the  hope  that  some 
plan  might  be  suggested. 


250  JACK'S  WARD;  OB, 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

THE   SECRET   STAIRCASE. 

THE  prospect  certainly  was  not  a  bright  one. 
The  door  was  fast  locked,  and  there  could  be  no 
egress  there.  Escape  from  the  windows  seemed 
equally  impracticable.  This  apparently  exhausted 
the  avenues  of  possible  escape  that  were  open  to  the 
dissatisfied  prisoner.  But  accidentally  Jack  made  an 
important  discovery. 

It  has  already  been  said  that  there  was  a  full- 
length  portrait  in  the  room.  Jack  chanced  to  rest 
his  hand  against  it,  when  he  must  unconsciously 
have  touched  some  secret  spring,  for  a  secret  door 
opened,  dividing  the  picture  in  two  parts,  and,  to  our 
hero's  unbounded  astonishment,  he  saw  before  him  a 
small  spiral  staircase  leading  down  into  the  dark- 
ness, whither  he  could  not  tell  on  account  of  the 
imperfect  light. 

"  By  gracious,  this  is  a  queer  old  house ! "  thought 


THE  EOT  GUARDIAN.  251 

Jack.  "  I  wonder  where  those  stairs  go  to.  I've  a 
great  mind  to  explore." 

There  was  not  much  chance  of  detection;  he  re- 
flected, as  it  would  be  three  hours  before  his  next 
meal  would  be  brought  him.  He  left  the  door  open, 
therefore,  and  began  slowly  and  cautiously  to  go 
down  the  staircase.  It  seemed  a  long  one,  longer 
than  was  necessary  to  connect  two  floors.  Boldly, 
Jack  kept  on  till  he  reached  the  bottom. 

4 'Where  am  I?"  thought  our  hero.  "I  must  be 
down  as  low  as  the  cellar." 

While  this  thought  passed  through  his  mind, 
voices  suddenly  struck  upon  his  ear.  He  had  ac- 
customed himself  now  to  the  darkness,  and  ascer- 
tained that  there  was  a  crevice  through  which  he 
could  look  in  the  direction  from  which  the  sounds 
proceeded.  Applying  his  eye,  he  could  distinguish 
a  small  cellar  apartment,  in  the  middle  of  which  was 
a  printing  press,  and  work  was  evidently  going  on. 
He  could  distinguish  three  persons.  Two  were 
in  their  shirt-sleeves,  bending  over  an  engraver's 
bench.  Beside  them,  and  apparently  superintending 


252  JAGS' s  WARD;  OR, 

their  work,  was  the  old  man  whom  Jack  knew  as 
Doctor  Robinson. 

u  What  can  they  be  doing?"  thought  the  prisoner, 
with  strong  curiosity. 

He  applied  his  ear  to  the  crevice,  and  heard  these 
words :  — 

"This  lot  is  rather  better  than  the  last,  Jones. 
We  can't  be  too  careful,  or  the  detectives  will 
interfere  with  our  business.  Some  of  the  last  lot 
were  rather  coarse." 

"  I  know  it,  sir,"  answered  the  man,  addressed  as 
Jones.  "  We'll  try  not  to  let  it  happen  again,  sir." 

11  There's  nothing  the  matter  with  this,"  said  the 
old  man,  apparently  taking  one  into  his  hand  and 
examining  it.  "  There  isn't  one  person  in  a  hundred 
that  would  suspect  it  was  not  genuine." 

Jack  pricked  up  his  ears. 

"What  can  they  be  talking  about?"  he  said  to 
himself. 

Looking  once  more  through  the  crevice,  he  at  last 
ascertained  that  it  was  a  bill  that  the  old  man  had  in 
his  hand. 

"  They're  counterfeiters,"  he  said  half  audibly. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  253 

Low  as  the  tone  was,  it  startled  Doctor  Robinson, 
to  give  him  his  false  name. 

44  Ha  ! "  said  he  startled,  "  what's  that?  " 

"  What's  what,  sir  ?  "  said  Jones. 

"  I  thought  I  heard  some  one  speaking." 

"  I  didn't  hear  nothing,  sir." 

"  Did  you  hear  nothing,  Ferguson?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  I  suppose  I  was  deceived,  then,"  said  the  old 
man,  apparently  satisfied. 

"  How  many  bills  have  you  there?"  he  resumed. 

"  Seventy-nine,  sir." 

"  That's  a  very  good  day's  work,"  said  the  old 
man  in  a  tone  of  satisfaction.  ' c  It's  a  paying 
business,"  and  he  rubbed  his  hands  complacently. 

"It  pays  you,  sir,"  said  Jones,  in  rather  a 
grumbling  tone. 

"  And  it  shall  pay  you  too,  my  man,  never  fear ! 
You  have  only  to  go  on,  and  give  me  as  good  work 
as  you  have  done  to-day,  and  I  will  see  that  you 
are  well  rewarded." 

Jack  had  made  a  great  discovery.  He  understood 
now  the  connection  between  Mrs.  Hardwick  and  the 


254  JACOBS  WARD;  on, 

old  man  whom  he  now  knew  not  to  be  a  physician. 
He  was  at  the  head  of  a  gang  of  counterfeiters,  and  she 
was  engaged  in  putting  the  false  money  into  circula- 
tion. 

"  And  she  has  made  Ida  do  some  of  her  dirty 
work,"  said  Jack,  indignantly.  "  The  wretch ! " 

He  softly  ascended  the  staircase,  and  re-entered 
the  room  he  left,  closing  the  secret  door  behind  him. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  255 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

JACK  IS   DETECTED. 

"I  BEGIN  to  understand  matters  a  little  better,' 
thought  Jack.     "  I've  got  into  bad  company,  that's 
clear,  and  the  sooner  I  get  out  the  better." 

It  was  easy  to  arrive  at  this  conclusion,  but  the 
difficult  problem  still  remained,  "  How  was  he  to 
get  out?" 

In  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  Jack  made  another 
visit  to  the  foot  of  the  staircase.  He  saw  through 
the  crevice  the  same  two  men  at  work,  but  the  old 
man  was  not  with  them.  Ascertaining  this,  he  ought, 
in  prudence,  immediately  to  have  retraced  his  steps, 
but  he  remained  on  watch  for  twenty  minutes.  When 
at  length  he  did  return  to  his  room,  he  was  startled 
and  confounded  by  finding  the  old  man  seated,  and 
waiting  for  him.  There  was  a  menacing  expression 
on  his  face. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  he  demanded  abruptly. 


256  JACI?S  WARD;  GJI, 

"  Downstairs,"  answered  Jack. 
"  Who  told  you  of  the  staircase?" 
"  Nobody :  I  found  it  myself." 
"  How  did  you  find  it  ?" 
-"  I  touched  the  spring  by  accident." 
"  How  many  times  have  you  been  down  below?*' 
"  Twice." 

"Ha!    What  did  you  see?" 

"  I  may  as  well  own  up,"  thought  Jack.     "  If  I 
don't  he'll  know  I  am  deceiving  him." 

11  Through  a  crack  I  saw  some  men  at  work  in  a 
basement  room,"  he  replied. 

"  Do  you  know  what  they  were  doing?"  asked  the 
old  man,  keenly. 
"  I  could  guess." 
"Well,  what  was  it?" 
"  Counterfeiting,  I  should  think." 
"Well,  is  there  anything  wrong  in  that?" 
Jack  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"  I  suppose  you  wouldn't  want  to  be  found  out," 
he  answered. 

Again  the  old  man  surveyed  him  keenly.     "  You 
are  right,"  he  said  at  last. 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  257 

Jack  remained  silent. 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  have  you  make  this  discovery,** 
he  continued  after  a  pause,  "  but  it's  happened,  and 
can't  be  helped.  Now  there's  only  one  thing  to  be 
done." 

"What's  that?" 

"  You  have  become  possessed  of  an  important — I 
may  say,  a  dangerous  secret.  You  have  us  in  your 
power." 

"I  suppose,"  said  Jack,  "you  are  afraid  I  will 
Denounce  you  to  the  police?" 

"  Well,  there  is  a  possibility  of  that.  That  class 
of  people  has  a  prejudice  against  us,  though  we  are 
only  doing  what  everybody  likes  to  do,  —  making 
money." 

Jack  reflected  a  moment. 

"  Will  you  let  me  go  if  I  will  promise  to  keep  your 
secret?"  he  asked. 

"  What  assurance  have  we  that  you  would  keep 
your  promise  ?  " 

"  I  would  pledge  my  word." 

"  Your  word ! "  Foley,  for  this  was  the  old  man's 
17 


258  JACI?S  WARD;  ox, 

real  name,  snapped  his  fingers.     "  I  wouldn't  give 
that  for  it.    That  is  not  sufficient." 

"  What  will  be?" 

11  You  must  become  one  of  us." 

"  One  of  you ! " 

Jack  was  startled  by  a  proposition  so  unexpected. 

1  'Yes.    You  must  make   yourself  liable    to  the 
same  penalties,  so  that  it  will  be  for  your  own  inter 
est  to  remain  silent.     Otherwise  we  can't  trust  you." 

"  Suppose  I  decline  these  terms?" 

"Then  I  shall  be  under  the  painful  necessity  of 
retaining  you  as  my  guest,"  said  Foley,  smiling  dis- 
agreeably. 

"What  made  you  pretend  to  be  a  mad-doctor?" 
asked  Jack. 

"To  put  you  off  the  track,"  said  Foley.  "You 
believed  it,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"At  first." 

Jack  walked  the  room  in  perturbation.  He  felt 
that  imprisonment  would  be  better  than  liberty  pur- 
chased by  criminality.  At  the  same  time  he  felt  that 
it  would  not  be  best  to  refuse  peremptorily,  as  it 
might  lead  to  a  stricter  confinement  than  before. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  259 

He  decided  that  it  was  best  to  temporize. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  say?"  asked  Foley. 

"  I  should  like  to  take  time  to  reflect  upon  your 
proposal,"  said  Jack.  "It  is  of  so  important  a 
character  that  I  don't  like  to  decide  at  once." 

"  How  long  do  you  require?  " 

"  Two  days.     Suppose  I  join  you,  shall  I  get  good 

pay?" 

"  Excellent,"  answered  Foley,  briskly.  "In  fact, 
you'll  be  better  paid  than  a  boy  of  your  age  would  be 
anywhere  else." 

"  That's  worth  thinking  about,"  said  Jack,  gravely, 
bent  upon  making  Foley  think  he  was  seriously 
inclined  to  accept  his  proposal.  "  My  father  is  poor, 
and  I've  got  my  own  way  to  make." 

"You  couldn't  have  a  better  opening.  You're  a 
smart  lad,  and  will  be  sure  to  succeed." 

"  Well,  I'll  think  of  it,"  said  Jack.  "  If  I  should 
make  up  my  mind  before  the  end  of  two  days,  I  will 
let  you  know." 

"  Very  well.    You  can't  do  better." 

"  But  there's  one  thing  I  want  to  ask  about,"  said 


260  JACOBS  WARD;  OB, 

Jack,  with  pretended  anxiety.  "Itfs  pretty  risky 
business,  isn't  it?  " 

"Fve  been  in  the  business  ten  years,  and  they 
haven't  got  hold  of  me  yet,"  answered  Foley.  "  All 
you've  got  to  do  is,  to  be  careful." 

"  He'll  join,"  said  Foley  to  himself,  as  he  left  the 
room.  "  He's  a  smart  fellow,  and  we  can  make  him 
useful.  It'll  be  the  best  way  to  dispose  of  one  who 
might  get  us  into  trouble." 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  261 


CHAPTER    XXX. 
JACK'S  TRIUMPH. 

,"  thought  Jack,  "it  appears  I've  got  aiv 
offer  to  go  into  business  —  one,  too,  in  which  I  am 
sure  to  make  money.  I  suppose  I  ought  to  feel  com- 
plimented, but  I  don't  exactly  see  it  in  that  light." 

It  was  uncomfortable  enough  to  be  in  confinement, 
but  to  Jack  it  was  even  more  of  a  hardship  because  it 
made  it  utterly  impossible  for  him  to  prosecute  his 
search  for  Ida. 

"  It  won't  do  to  stay  cooped  up  here,"  he  decided, 
and  for  the  tenth  time  he  began  to  sonsider  what  was 
the  most  feasible  method  of  escape. 

Finally  he  was  brought  to  adopt  the  boldest  plan 
that  suggested  itself.  He  resolved  upon  a  coup  de 
main.  If  any  of  my  readers  are  ignorant  of  the 
meaning  of  this  phrase,  they  will  soon  be  enlight- 
ened. 

The  next  day  Jack  had  another  visit  from  Foley. 


262  JACK'S  WARD:  ow, 

"Well,"  said  the  old  man,  nodding,  "have  you 
thought  over  my  proposal?" 

"Yes,"  said  Jack. 

"  And  decided  to  accept?" 

' '  I  don't  know  that  I  can  do  better,"  answered  our 
hero. 

"You're  sensible,"  said  Foley,  briskly. 

"  What  should  I  have  to  do?  "  asked  Jack. 

*'  Sometimes  one  thing,  and  sometimes  another. 
At  first  we  might  employ  you  to  put  off  some  of  the 
bills." 

"  That  would  be  easy  work,  anyway,"  said  Jack. 

"  Yes,  there  is  nothing  hard  about  that,  except  to 
look  innocent." 

"  I  can  do  that,"  said  Jack,  laughing.  "  Trust  me 
for  that." 

"  You're  smart ;  I  can  tell  by  the  looks  of  you," 
said  Foley. 

"  Do  you  really  think  so?"  returned  Jack,  appear- 
ing flattered. 

"  Yes  ;  you'll  make  one  of  our  best  hands." 

"I  suppose  Mrs.  Hardwick  is  in  your  employ?" 
said  Jack. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  263 

"Perhaps  she  is,  and  perhaps  she  isn't,"  said 
Foley,  non-committally.  "That  is  something  you 
don't  need  to  know." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  care  to  know,"  said  Jack,  carelessly. 
"I  only  asked.  I  was  afraid  you  would  set  me  to 
work  down  in  the  cellar." 

"You  don't  know  enough  about  the  business  yet. 
We  need  skilled  workmen  there.  You  couldn't  do  us 
any  good  there." 

"  I  shouldn't  like  it,  anyway.  It  must  be  unpleas- 
ant to  be  down  there." 

"  "We  pay  the  workmen  you  saw  good  pay.  They 
are  experienced  men." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so.  When  do  you  want  me  to 
begin?" 

"  I  can't  tell  you  just  yet.     I'U  think  about  it." 

"I  hope  it'll  be  soon,  for  I'm  tired  of  staying 
here.  By  the  way,  that's  a  capital  idea  about  the 
secret  staircase.  Who'd  ever  think  the  portrait  con- 
cealed it?"  said  Jack. 

As  he  spoke  he  advanced  to  the  portrait  in  an 
easy,  natural  manner,  and  touched  the  spring. 

Of  course  it  flew  op«n. 


264  JACtfs  WARD;  oiz, 

The  old  man  also  drew  near. 

4 'That  was  my  idea,"  he  said  in  a  complacent 
tone.  "  Of  course  we  have  to  keep  everything  as 
secret  as  possible,  and  I  flatter  myself —  " 

His  remark  came  to  a  sudden  pause.  He  had 
incautiously  got  between  Jack  and  the  open  door. 
Now  our  hero,  who  was  close  upon  eighteen,  and 
strongly  built,  was  considerably  more  than  a  match 
in  physical  strength  for  Foley.  He  suddenly  seized 
the  old  man,  thrust  him  through  the  aperture,  then 
closed  the  secret  door,  and  sprang  for  the  door  of 
the  room. 

The  key  was  in  the  lock  where  Foley,  whose 
confidence  made  him  careless,  had  left  it.  Turning 
it,  he  hurried  downstairs,  meeting  no  one  on  the 
way.  To  open  the  front  door  and  dash  through  it 
was  the  work  of  an  instant.  As  he  descended  the 
stairs  he  could  hear  the  muffled  shout  of  the  old 
man  whom  he  had  made  prisoner,  but  this  only 
caused  him  to  accelerate  his  speed. 

When  he  found  himself  in  the  street  he  felt  a  thrill 
of  exultation  at  the  success  of  his  plan. 


THE  JBOT  GUARDIAN.  265 

•'Where's  your  hat,  mister?"  asked  a  grinning 
ctreet  boy. 

Jack  put  his  hand  to  his  head,  and  for  the  first 
time  it  occurred  to  him  that  in  his  hurry  he  had  come 
away  without  a  hat.  It  was  rather  awkward,  but 
was  a  small  matter  compared  with  the  loss  of  liberty. 

"Gone  on  a  visit,"  answered  Jack.  "Lend  me 
yours." 

"  I'll  sell  it  to  you  for  fifty  cents,"  said  the  boy. 

Jack  glanced  at  the  boy's  hat.  It  was  quite  re- 
spectable in  appearance,  but  it  might  not  fit. 

"I'll  take  it  if  it  fits,"  said  Jack,  promptly. 
"  Let  me  try  it." 

"You  won't  run  off  with  it?"  inquired  the  boy, 
cautiously. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  Jack. 

The  boy,  upon  this  assurance,  handed  over  the 
hat. 

It  was  a  good  fit,  and  our  hero  at  once  drew  from 
Uis  pocket  the  price  demanded. 

"  Now  I  sha'n't  excite  attention,"  said  he  to  him- 
self. "  The  old  man's  welcome  to  the  hat  I  left 
behind  me.  He  can  take  it  in  payment  for  board." 


266  JACS*S  WARD;  ojj, 

Jack  now  directed  his  course  as  well  as  he  could 
towards  his  uncle's  shop.  One  thing,  however,  he 
did  not  forget,  and  that  was  to  note  carefully  the 
position  of  the  shop  in  which  he  had  been  confined. 

"I  shall  want  to  make  another  visit  there,"  he 
reflected. 

Meantime,  as  may  well  be  supposed,  Abel  Hard- 
ing had  suffered  great  anxiety  on  account  of  Jack's 
protracted  absence.  Several  days  had  elapsed  and 
still  he  was  missing.  He  had  been  unable  to  find 
the  slightest  trace  of  him. 

"I  am  afraid  something  has  happened  to  Jack," 
he  remarked  to  his  wife  on  the  afternoon  of  Jack's 
escape.  "  I  think  Jack  was  probably  rash  and  im- 
prudent, and  I  fear,  poor  boy,  he  may  have  come  to 
harm." 

"He  may  be  confined  by  the  parties  who  have 
taken  his  sister." 

"  It  is  possible  that  it  is  no  worse.  At  all  events 
I  don't  think  it  right  to  keep  it  from  Timothy  any 
longer.  I've  put  off  writing  as  long  as  I  could, 
hoping  Jack  would  come  back,  but  I  don't  feel  as  if 
it  would  be  right  to  hold  it  back  any  longer.  I  shall 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  267 

write  tins  evening,  and  tell  my  brother  to  come  right 
on.  It'll  be  a  blow  to  him." 

"  Better  wait  till  morning,  Abel.  Who  knows  but 
we  may  hear  from  Jack  before  that  time." 

The  baker  shook  his  head. 

"If  we'd  been  going  to  hear  we'd  have  heard 
before  this,"  he  said. 

Just  at  that  moment  there  was  a  hurried  step 
heard  in  the  hall,  and  the  door  was  flung  open. 

"Why,  it's  Jack!"  exclaimed  the  baker,  amazed. 

"I  should  say  it  was,"  returned  Jack,  taking  off 
his  hat.  "  Aunt,  have  you  got  anything  to  eat  in  the 
house  ?  I'm  'most  famished." 

"Where  in  the  name  of  wonder  have  you  been, 
Jack  ?  "  asked  his  uncle. 

"I've  been  shut  up,  uncle  —  boarded  and  lodged 
for  nothing — by  some  people  who  liked  my  company 
better  than  I  liked  theirs.  But  I've  just  made  my 
escape,  and  here  I  am,  well,  hearty  and  hungry." 

Jack's  appetite  was  soon  provided  for.  He  found 
time  between  the  mouthfuls  to  describe  the  secret 
staircase,  and  his  discovery  of  the  unlawful  occupa- 
tion of  the  man  who  acted  as  his  gaoler. 


268  JACX?S  WARD;  o*, 

The  baker  listened  with  eager  interest. 

"  Jack,"  said  he,  "you've  done  a  good  stroke  of 
business." 

"  In  getting  away  ?  "  said  Jack. 

"No,  in  ferreting  out  these  counterfeiters.  Do  you 
know  there  is  a  reward  of  a  thousand  dollars  offered 
for  their  apprehension  ?  " 

"You  don't  say  so!"  exclaimed  Jack,  laying 
down  his  knife  and  fork.  "  Do  you  think  I  can  get 
it?" 

"You'd  better  try  The  gang  has  managed  mat- 
ters so  shrewdly  that  the  authorities  have  been  unable 
to  get  any  clue  to  their  whereabouts.  Can  you  go  to 
the  house  where  you  were  confined  ?  " 

"  Yes  :  I  took  particular  notice  of  its  location." 

"That's  lucky.  Now,  if  you  take  my  advice, 
you'll  give  information  to  the  authorities  before  they 
have  time  to  get  away." 

"  I'll  do  it ! "  said  Jack.     "  Come  along,  uncle." 

And  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  put  on  his  hat. 

4 '  Have  you  satisfied  your  appetite  ? "  asked  his 
aunt. 

"I  could  eat  more,"  said  Jack,    "but   'business 


THE  £OT  GUARDIAN.  269 

before  pleasure.'  That's  my  motto.  I'm  after  that 
reward." 

"  You're  right,  Jack.  There's  no  time  to  be  lost. 
I'll  go  along  with  you." 

Fifteen  minutes  later,  Jack  was  imparting  his  in- 
formation to  the  Chief  of  Police.  It  was  received 
with  visible  interest  and  excitement. 

"  I  will  detail  a  squad  of  men  to  go  with  you,"  said 
the  chief.  "  Go  at  once.  No  time  is  to  be  lost." 

In  less  than  an  hour  from  the  time  Jack  left  the 
haunt  of  the  coiners,  an  authoritative  knock  was 
heard  at  the  door. 

It  was  answered  by  Foley. 

The  old  man  turned  pale  as  he  set  eyes  on  Jack 
and  the  police,  and  comprehended  the  object  of  the 
visit. 

"  What  do  you  want,  gentleman  ? "  he  asked  in 
tremulous  accents. 

"  Is  that  the  man?"  asked  the  sergeant  of  Jack. 

"  Yes." 

"  Secure  him." 

"I  know  him,"  said  Foley,  with  a  glance  of  hatred 
directed  at  Jack.  "  He's  a  thief.  He's  been  in  my 


270  JACK'S  WARD;  OR, 

employ,  but  he's  run  away  with  fifty  dollars  belonging 
to  me." 

"  I  don't  care  about  stealing  the  kind  of  money 
you  deal  in,"  said  Jack,  coolly.  "  It's  all  a  lie  this 
man  tells  you." 

"  Why  do  you  arrest  me?  "  said  Foley.  "  It's  an 
outrage.  I'm  a  peaceable,  inoffensive  citizen.  TLOU 
have  no  right  to  enter  my  house  like  this." 

"What  is  your  business?"  demanded  the  police 
sergeant. 

Foley  hesitated. 

"I'm  a  physician,"  he  answered  after  a  pause. 

"  If  you  are  telling  the  truth,  no  harm  will  be 
done  you.  Meanwhile,  we  must  search  your  house. 
Where  is  that  secret  staircase  ?  " 

"  I'll  show  you,"  answered  Jack. 

He  showed  the  way  upstairs  to  the  room  where  he 
had  been  confined. 

"How  did  you  get  out?"  he  asked  Foley,  as  he 
touched  the  spring,  and  the  secret  door  flew  open. 

"  Curse  you ! "  exclaimed  Foley,  darting  a  look  of 
hatred  and  malignity  at  him.  "  I  wish  I  had  you  m 
my  power  once  more.  I  treated  you  too  well." 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  271 

"You  said  I  was  smart,"  said  Jack.  "  I  wanted 
to  deserve  your  good  opinion." 

We  need  not  follow  the  police  in  their  search. 
The  discoveries  which  they  made  were  ample  to 
secure  the  conviction  of  the  gang  who  made  this 
house  the  place  of  their  operations.  To  anticipate 
a  little,  we  may  say  that  Foley  was  sentenced  to 
imprisonment  for  a  term  of  years,  and  his  subordi- 
nates to  a  term  less  prolonged.  The  reader  will 
also  be  glad  to  know  that  to  our  hero  was  awarded  the 
prize  of  a  thousand  dollars  which  had  been  offered 
for  the  apprehension  of  this  gang  of  counterfeiters, 
and  that  it  was  accompanied  by  a  well-merited  com- 
pliment to  his  courage  and  daring. 

But  there  was  another  notable  capture  made  that 
day. 

Mrs.  Hardwick  was  accustomed  to  make  periodi- 
cal visits  to  Foley  to  secure  fresh  supplies  of  the 
false  bills,  and  to  make  settlement  for  what  she  had 
succeeded  in  passing  off. 

While  Jack  and  the  officers  were  in  the  house  she 
rang  the  door-bell. 

Jack  went  to  the  door. 


272  JACK'S  WARD;  as, 

Peg  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise  when  she 
saw  him. 

"  How  is  this?"  she  asked. 

"  Oh,"  said  Jack,  "  it's  all  right.  Come  in.  I've 
gone  into  the  business  too." 

Crafty  as  she  was,  Peg  was  taken  in. 

"  Where's  Foley  ?"  she  asked. 

"Right  inside.     Come  in." 

Mrs.  Hardwick  entered.  No  sooner  was  she 
inside  than  Jack  closed  the  door. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  she  demanded,  suspic- 
iously. "  Let  me  out." 

But  Jack  was  standing  with  his  back  to  the  door. 
The  door  to  the  right  opened,  and  a  policeman 
appeared. 

"  Arrest  this  woman,"  said  Jack.  "  She's  one  of 
them." 

"Unhand  me!"  said  Peg,  haughtily.  "What 
right  have  you  to  detain  me?" 

"We'll  let  you  know  in  court,"  said  the  officer. 
"  Foley's  taken,  and  you  may  as  well  yield  without 
any  fuss.' 

"  I  suppose  I  must  yield,"  said  Peg,  sulkily ;  "  but 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN".  273 

you  sha'n't  be  a  gainer  by  it,"  she  continued,  ad 
dressing  Jack. 

"Where  is  Ida?"  asked  our  hero,  anxiously. 

"  She  is  safe,"  said  Peg,  sententiously. 

"  You  won't  tell  me  where  she  is?" 

"  No :  why  should  I  ?  I  suppose  I  am  indebted  to 
you  for  this  arrest.  She  shall  be  kept  out  of  your 
way  as  long  as  I  have  power  to  do  so." 

Jack's  countenance  fell. 

"  At  least  you  will  tell  me  whether  she's  well?"  he 
said. 

"  I  shall  answer  no  questions  whatever/'  said  Mrs. 
Hardwick. 

"Then  I  shall  find  her,"  said  Jack.  "She  is 
somewhere  in  the  city,  and  I'll  find  her  sooner  or 
later." 

Peg  was  not  one  to  betray  her  feelings,  but  this 
arrest  was  a  great  disappointment  to  her.  It  in- 
terfered with  a  plan  she  had  of  making  a  large  sum 
out  of  Ida.  To  understand  what  this  was,  we  must 
go  back  a  day  or  two,  and  introduce  a  new  char- 
acter. 

It 


274  JACK'S  WARD; 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

MB.   JOHN   SOMERVILLE. 

JACK'S  appearance  on  the  scene  had  set  Mrs. 
Hardwick  to  thinking.  This  was  the  substance  of 
her  reflections.  Ida,  whom  she  had  kidnapped  for 
certain  reasons  of  her  own,  was  likely  to  prove  an 
incumbrance  rather  than  a  source  of  profit.  The 
child,  her  suspicions  awakened  in  regard  to  the 
character  of  the  money  she  had  been  employed  to 
pass  off,  was  no  longer  available  for  that  purpose. 
So  firmly  resolved  was  she  not  to  do  what  was  wrong,, 
that  threats  and  persuasions  were  alike  unavailing. 
Besides  there  was  the  danger  of  her  encountering 
some  one  sent  in  search  of  her  by  her  friends  in 
New  York. 

Under  these  circumstances  Peg  bethought  herself 
of  the  ultimate  object  which  she  had  proposed  to 
herself  in  kidnapping  Ida  —  that  of  extorting  money 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  275 

from  a  man  who  has  not  hitherto  figured  in  our 
story,  but  must  now  be  introduced  to  the  reader. 

John  Somerville  occupied  a  suite  of  apartments  in 
a  handsome  lodging-house  in  Walnut  Street.  A  man 
wanting  yet  several  years  of  forty,  he  looked  as 
many  years  older  than  that  age.  Late  hours  and 
dissipated  habits,  though  kept  within  respectable 
limits,  left  their  traces  on  his  face.  At  twenty-one 
he  inherited  a  considerable  fortune,  which,  combined 
with  some  professional  income  (for  he  was  a  lawyer, 
and  not  without  ability),  was  quite  sufficient  to 
support  him  handsomely,  and  leave  a  considerable 
surplus  every  year.  But  latterly  he  had  contracted  a 
passion  for  gaming,  and,  shrewd  though  he  might  be 
naturally,  he  could  hardly  be  expected  to  prove  a 
match  for  the  wily  habitues  of  the  gaming-table, 
who  had  marked  him  for  their  prey. 

The  evening  before  his  introduction  to  the  reader 
he  had  passed  till  a  late  hour  at  a  fashionable 
gaming-house  where  he  had  lost  heavily. 

His  reflections  on  waking  were  not  the  most  pleas- 
ant. For  the  first  time  within  fifteen  years  he 
realized  the  folly  and  imprudence  of  the  course  h» 


276  JACK'S  WARD;  ou, 

had  pursued.  The  evening  previous  he  had  lost  a 
thousand  dollars,  for  which  he  had  given  his  I  O  U. 
Where  to  raise  the  money  he  did  not  know.  He 
bathed  his  aching  head,  and  cursed  his  ill  luck  in  no 
measured  terms.  After  making  his  toilet,  he  rang 
the  bell,  and  ordered  breakfast. 

For  this  he  had  but  scanty  appetite.  He  drank  a 
cup  of  coffee,  and  ate  part  of  a  roll,  and  then  was 
obliged  to  desist.  Scarcely  had  he  finished,  and 
directed  the  removal  of  the  dishes,  than  the  servant 
entered  to  announce  a  visitor. 

"  Is  it  a  gentleman?  "  he  inquired  hastily,  fearing 
that  it  might  be  a  creditor.  He  occasionally  had 
such  visitors. 

"  No,  sir." 

"A  lady?" 

"No,  sir." 

"  A  child  ?  But  what  could  a  child  want  of  me  ?  " 
he  demanded. 

"No,  sir.  It  isn't  a  child,"  said  the  servant  ID 
reply. 

"  Then  if  if  s  neither  a  gentleman,  lady  nor  child," 


THE  EOT  GUARDIAN.  277 

said  Somerville,  "  will  you  have  the  goodness  to  in- 
form me  what  sort  of  a  being  it  is." 

"It's  a  woman,  sir,"  answered  the  servant,  his 
gravity  unmoved. 

"Why  didn't  you  say  so  when  I  asked  you?" 
said  his  employer,  irritably. 

"Because  you  asked  me  if  it  was  a  lady,  and  this 
isn»t  —  leastways  she  don't  look  like  one." 

"  You  can  send  her  up,  whoever  she  is,"  said  Som 
erville. 

A  moment  afterwards,  Peg  entered  his  presence. 

John  Somerville  looked  at  her  without  much  inter- 
est, supposing  that  she  might  be  a  seamstress,  or 
laundress,  or  some  applicant  for  charity.  So  many 
years  had  passed  since  he  had  met  with  this  woman, 
that  she  had  passed  out  of  his  remembrance. 

"Do  you  wish  to  see  me  about  anything?"  he 
asked,  indifferently.  "  If  so,  you  must  be  quick,  for 
I  am  just  going  out." 

"You  don't  seem  to  recognize  me,  Mr.  Somer- 
ville," said  Mrs.  Hardwick,  fixing  her  keen  black 
eyes  upon  his  face. 


278  JACtfs  WARD;  OR, 

"  I  can't  say  I  do,"  he  replied,  carelessly.  "  Per- 
haps you  used  to  wash  for  me  once." 

"  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  acting  as  laundress," 
said  the  woman,  proudly. 

It  is  worth  noticing  that  she  was  not  above  passing 
spurious  bills,  and  doing  other  things  which  are 
stamped  as  disreputable  by  the  laws  of  the  land,  but 
her  pride  revolted  at  the  imputation  that  she  was  a 
washerwoman.  Human  pride  is  a  curious  thing,  and 
people  are  often  ashamed  of  what  is  least  discredit- 
able. 

"  In  that  case,"  said  Somerville,  languidly,  "  you 
will  have  to  tell  me  who  you  are,  for  it  is  quite  out 
of  my  power  to  remember  all  the  people  I  meet." 

"Perhaps  the  name  of  Ida  will  assist  your  recol- 
lection ;  or  have  you  forgotten  that  name,  too  ?  "  said 
the  woman,  composedly. 

"Ida!"  repeated  John  Somerville,  throwing  off 
his  indifferent  manner,  and  surveying  the  woman's 
features  attentively. 

"Yes." 

"  I  have  known  several  persons  of  that  name,"  he 
said,  recovering  his  former  indifferent  manner.  "  I 


THE  JBOT  GUARDIAN.  279 

haven't  the  slightest  idea  to  which  of  them  you  refer. 
You  don't  look  as  if  it  was  your  name,"  he  added 
with  a  laugh. 

The  woman  took  no  notice  of  the  reference  to  her- 
self. 

"The  Ida  I  mean  was  and  is  a  child,"  she  said. 
"  But  there's  no  use  in  beating  about  the  bush,  Mr. 
Somerville,  when  I  can  come  straight  to  the  point. 
It  is  now  about  seven  years  since  my  husband  and 
myself  were  employed  to  carry  off  a  child  —  a  female 
child  of  a  year  old  —  named  Ida.  You  were  the  man 
who  employed  us."  She  said  this  deliberately,  look- 
ing steadily  in  his  face.  "  We  placed  it,  according  to 
your  directions,  on  the  doorstep  of  a  poor  family  in 
New  York,  and  they  have  since  cared  for  it  as  their 
own.  I  suppose  you  have  not  forgotten  that  ?  " 

John  Somerville  deliberated.  Should  he  defy  this 
woman,  and  challenge  her  to  the  proof?  It  would 
not  do.  He  decided  to  admit  the  fact,  and  draw 
from  her  the  object  of  her  visit. 

"I  remember  it,"  he  said,  "  and  now  recall  your 
features.  How  have  you  fared  since  I  employed 
you  ?  Have  you  found  your  business  profitable  ?  " 


280  JAC£S  WARD;  GJJ, 

"Far  from  it,"  answered  Peg.  "I  am  not  yet 
able  to  retire  on  a  competence." 

"  One  of  your  youthful  appearance,"  said  Somer- 
ville,  banteringly,  "  ought  not  to  think  of  retiring 
under  ten  years." 

Peg  smiled.  She  knew  how  to  appreciate  this 
speech.  She  was  not  vain  of  her  personal  appear- 
ance. 

"I  don't  care  for  compliments,"  she  said,  "even 
when  they  are  sincere.  As  for  my  youthful  appear- 
ance, I  am  old  enough  to  have  reached  the  age  of 
discretion,  and  not  so  old  as  to  have  fallen  into  my 
second  childhood." 

"Compliments  aside,  then,  will  you  proceed  to 
whatever  business  brought  you  here  ?  " 

"  I  want  a  thousand  dollars,"  said  Peg,  abruptly. 

"A  thousand  dollars!"  repeated  Somerville. 
"Very  likely.  I  should  like  that  amount  myself. 
Did  you  come  here  to  tell  me  that?" 

"I  have  come  here  to  ask  you  to  give  me  that 
amount,"  said  Mrs.  Hardwick. 

"Have  you  a  husband?" 

"Yes." 


THE  EOT  GUARDIAN.  281 

"Then  let  me  suggest  that  your  husband  is  the 
proper  person  to  apply  to  in  such  a  case." 

"  I  think  I  am  more  likely  to  get  it  out  of  you," 
said  Peg,  coolly.  "  My  husband  couldn't  supply  me 
with  a  thousand  cents,  even  if  he  were  willing,  which 
is  not  likely." 

"Much  as  I  am  flattered  by  your  application," 
said  Somerville  with  a  polite  sneer,  "  since  it  would 
seem  to  place  me  next  in  estimation  to  your  husband, 
I  cannot  help  suggesting  that  it  is  not  usual  to 
bestow  such  a  sum  on  a  stranger,  or  even  a  friend, 
without  an  equivalent  rendered." 

"  I  am  ready  to  give  you  an  equivalent." 

"  Of  what  nature?" 

"  I  am  willing  to  be  silent." 

"  And  how  can  your  silence  benefit  me?  " 

John  Somerville  asked  this  question  with  an  as- 
sumption of  indifference,  but  his  fingers  twitched 
nervously,  as  the  woman,  smiling  to  herself,  re- 
marked, — 

"  That  you  will  be  best  able  to  estimate." 

"Explain  yourself,  and  bear  in  mind  that  I  can 
oestow  little  time  on  you." 


282  JActfs  WARD;  GJZ, 

"  I  can  do  that  in  a  few  words.  You  employed  me 
to  kidnap  a  child.  I  believe  the  law  has  something 
to  say  about  that.  At  any  rate  the  child's  mother 
may  have." 

4 'What  do  you  know  about  the  child's  mother?" 
demanded  Somerville,  hastily. 

' '  All  about  her ! "  said  Peg,  emphatically. 

"  How  am  I  to  credit  that?  It  is  easy  to  claim  a 
knowledge  you  do  not  possess." 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  the  whole  story,  then?  In  the 
first  place,  she  married  your  cousin,  after  rejecting 
you.  You  never  forgave  her  for  this.  When,  a  year 
after  marriage,  her  husband  died,  you  renewed  your 
proposals.  They  were  rejected,  and  you  were  forbid- 
den to  renew  the  subject  on  pain  of  forfeiting  her 
friendship  forever.  You  left  her  presence,  deter- 
mined to  be  revenged.  With  this  object  you  sought 
Dick  and  myself,  and  employed  us  to  kidnap  the 
child.  There  is  the  whole  story,  briefly  told." 

John  Somerville  listened  with  compressed  lips  and 
pale  face. 

"  Woman,  how  came  this  within  your  knowledge  ?* 
he  demanded,  hoarsely. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  283 

"  That  is  of  no  consequence,"  said  Peg.  "  It  was 
for  my  interest  to  find  out,  and  I  did  so." 

"Well?" 

"I  know  one  thing  more — the  residence  of  the 
child's  mother.  I  hesitated  this  morning  whether  to 
come  here,  or  to  carry  Ida  to  her  mother,  trusting  to 
her  to  repay  from  gratitude  what  I  demand  from 
you  because  it  is  for  your  interest  to  comply  with  my 
request." 

"You  speak  of  carrying  the  child  to  her  mother. 
How  can  you  do  that  when  she  is  in  New  York  ?  " 

"You  are  mistaken,"  said  Peg,  coolly.  "  She  is 
in  Philadelphia." 

"With  you?" 

"With  me." 

"  How  long  has  this  been?" 

"  Nearly  a  fortnight." 

John  Somerville  paced  the  room  with  hurried  steps. 
Peg  watched  him  carelessly.  She  felt  that  she  had 
succeeded. 

He  paused  after  a  while,  and  stood  before  her. 

"  You  demand  a  thousand  dollars,"  he  said. 

" I  do." 


284  JActfs  WARD;  GJZ, 

"I  have  not  that  amount  with  me.  I  have  re- 
cently lost  a  heavy  sum,  no  matter  how.  But  I  can 
probably  get  it  to-day.  Call  to-morrow  at  this 
time, — no,  in  the  afternoon,  and  I  will  see  what  I  can 
do  for  you." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  woman,  well  satisfied. 

Left  to  himself,  John  Somerville  spent  some  time 
in  reflection.  Difficulties  encompassed  him  —  diffi- 
culties from  which  he  found  it  hard  to  find  a  way  of 
escape.  He  knew  how  difficult  it  would  be  to  meet 
this  woman's  demand.  Something  must  be  done. 
Gradually  his  countenance  lightened.  He  had  de- 
cided what  that  something  should  be. 

When  Peg  left  John  Somerville's  apartments,  it  was 
with  a  high  degree  of  satisfaction  at  the  result  of  the 
interview.  All  had  turned  out  as  she  wished.  She 
looked  upon  the  thousand  dollars  as  already  hers. 
The  considerations  which  she  had  urged  would,  she 
was  sure,  induce  him  to  make  every  effort  to  secure 
her  silence. 

Then,  with  a  thousand  dollars,  what  might  not 
be  done?  She  would  withdraw  from  the  busi- 
ness, for  one  thing.  It  was  too  hazardous.  Why 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  285 

might  not  Dick  and  she  retire  to  the  country,  lease  a 
countiy  inn,  and  live  an  honest  life  hereafter? 
There  were  times  when  she  grew  tired  of  the  life  she 
lived  at  present.  It  would  be  pleasant  to  go  to  some 
place  where  they  were  not  known,  and  enrol  them- 
selves among  the  respectable  members  of  the  commu- 
nity. She  was  growing  old ;  she  wanted  rest  and  a 
quiet  home.  Her  early  years  had  been  passed  in  the 
country.  She  remembered  still  the  green  fields  in 
which  she  played  as  a  child,  and  to  this  woman,  old 
and  sin-stained,  there  came  a  yearning  to  have  that 
life  return.  » 

But  her  dream  was  rudely  broken  by  her  encoun- 
ter with  the  officers  of  the  law  at  the  house  of  her 
employer. 


286  JActfa  WARD;  OB, 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

"  THE  FLOWER-GIKL." 

"  BY  gracious,  if  that  isn't  Ida ! "  exclaimed  Jack, 
in  profound  surprise. 

He  had  been  sauntering  along  Chestnut  Street, 
listlessly,  troubled  by  the  thought  that  though  he 
had  given  Mrs  Hardwick  into  custody,  he  was  ap- 
parently no  nearer  the  discovery  of  his  young  ward 
than  before.  What  steps  should  he  take  to  find 
her?  He  could  not  decide.  In  his  perplexity  his 
eyes  rested  suddenly  upon  the  print  of  the  "  Flower- 
girl." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  coming  to  a  stop,  "that  is  Ida 
fast  enough.  Perhaps  they  will  know  in  the  store 
where  she  is  to  be  found." 

He  at  once  entered  the  store. 

44  Can  you  tell  me  anything  about  the  girl  in  that 
picture  ?  "  he  asked  abruptly  of  the  nearest  clerk. 

The  clerk  smiled. 


THB  EOT  GUARDIAN.  287 

"It  is  a  fancy  picture,"  he  said.  "I  think  you 
would  need  a  long  time  to  find  the  original." 

"  It  has  taken  a  long  time,"  said  Jack.  "But  you 
are  mistaken.  That  is  a  picture  of  my  sister." 

"Of  your  sister!"  repeated  the  salesman  with 
surprise,  half  incredulous. 

There  was  reason  for  his  incredulity.  Jack  was  & 
stout,  good-looking  boy,  with  a  pleasant  face ;  but 
Ida's  beauty  was  of  a  delicate,  refined  type,  which 
argued  gentle  birth  ;  her  skin  of  a  brilliant  whiteness  r 
dashed  by  a  tinge  of  rose,  exhibiting  a  physical 
perfection  which  it  requires  several  generations  of 
refined  habits  and  exemption  from  the  coarser  bur* 
dens  of  life  to  produce. 

"  Yes,"  persisted  Jack.     "  She  is  my  sister." 

"  If  it  is  your  sister,"  said  the  clerk,  "you  ought 
to  know  where  she  is." 

Jack  was  about  to  reply,  when  the  attention  of 
both  was  called  by  a  surprised  exclamation  from  a 
lady  who  had  paused  beside  them.  Her  eyes  also 
were  fixed  upon  the  "  Flower-girl." 

"Who  is  this?"  she  asked  invisible  excitement. 
"Is  it  taken  from  life?" 


288  JACK'S  WARD;  OR, 

"  This  young  man  says  it  is  his  sister,"  said  the 
clerk. 

"Your  sister?"  repeated  the  lady,  her  eyes  fixed 
inquiringly  upon  Jack. 

In  her  tone  there  was  a  mingling  both  of  surprise 
and  disappointment. 

"  Yes,  madam,"  answered  Jack,  respectfully. 

"  Pardon  me,"  she  said,  "  there  is  very  little  per- 
sonal resemblance.  I  should  not  have  suspected  that 
you  were  her  brother." 

"  She  is  not  my  own  sister,"  explained  Jack,  "  but 
I  love  her  just  the  same." 

"  Do  you  live  in  Philadelphia?  Could  I  see  her?" 
asked  the  lady,  eagerly. 

" I  live  in  New  York,  madam,"  said  Jack;  "but 
Ida  was  stolen  from  us  about  three  weeks  since,  and 
I  have  come  here  in  pursuit  of  her.  I  have  not  been 
able  to  find  her  yet." 

"Did  you  call  her  Ida?"  demanded  the  lady  in 
strange  agitation. 

"  Yes,  madam." 

"  My  young  friend,"  said  the  woman  rapidly,  "  1 
have  been  much  interested  in  the  story  of  your  sister. 


THE   BOY  GUARDIAN.  289 

I  should  like  to  hear  more,  but  not  here.  Would  you 
have  any  objection  to  coming  home  with  me,  and 
telling  me  the  rest  ?  Then  we  will  together  concert 
measures  for  recovering  her.' 

"  You  are  very  kind,  madam,"  said  Jack,  bash- 
fully ;  for  the  lady  was  elegantly  dressed,  and  it  had 
nearer  been  his  fortune  to  converse  with  a  lady  of  her 
social  position.  "  I  shall  be  glad  to  go  home  with 
you,  and  shall  be  very  much  obliged  for  your  advice 
and  assistance." 

"  Then  we  will  drive  home  at  once." 

Jack  followed  her  to  the  street  where  he  saw  an 
elegant  carriage,  and  a  coachman  in  livery. 

With  natural  gallantry  Jack  assisted  the  lady  into 
the  carriage,  and,  at  her  bidding,  got  in  himself. 

"  Home,  Thomas !  "  she  directed  the  driver ;  "  and 
drive  as  fast  as  possible." 

"Yes,  madam." 

"How  old  was  you  sister  when  your  parents 
adopted  her?"  asked  Mrs.  Clifton. 

Jack  afterwards  ascertained  that  this  was  her 
name. 

"  About  a  year  oM,  madam." 
19 


290  JAC^S  WARD;  OB, 

44  And  how  long  since  was  that?"  asked  the  lady, 
waiting  for  the  answer  with  breathless  interest. 

"Seven  years  since.     She  is  now  eight." 

"  It  must  be,"  murmured  the  lady  in  low  tones. 
"  If  it  is  indeed  as  I  hope,  my  life  will  indeed  be 
blessed." 

uDid  you  speak,  madam?" 

"  Tell  me  under  what  circumstances  your  family 
adopted  her." 

Jack  related  briefly  how  Ida  had  been  left  at  their 
door  in  her  infancy. 

"And  do  you  recollect  the  month  in  which  this 
happened  ?  " 

"  It  was  at  the  close  of  December,  the  night  before 
New  Year's." 

"  It  is,  it  must  be  she  ! "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Clifton, 
clasping  her  hands,  while  tears  of  joy  welled  from  her 
eyes. 

"I  —  I  don't  understand,"  said  Jack,  naturally  as- 
tonished. 

"  My  young  friend,"  said  the  lady,  "  our  meeting 
this  morning  seems  providential.  I  have  every 
reason  to  believe  that  this  child  —  your  adopted  sis- 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  291 

ter  —  is  my  daughter,  stolen  from  me  by  an  unknown 
enemy  at  the  time  of  which  I  speak.  From  that  day 
to  this  I  have  never  been  able  to  obtain  the  slightest 
clue  that  might  lead  to  her  discovery.  I  have  long 
taught  myself  to  think  of  her  as  dead." 

It  was  Jack's  turn  to  be  surprised.  He  looked  at 
the  lady  beside  him.  She  was  barely  thirty.  The 
beauty  of  her  girlhood  had  ripened  into  the  maturer 
beauty  of  womanhood.  There  was  the  same  dazzling 
complexion,  the  same  soft  flush  upon  the  cheeks. 
The  eyes,  too,  were  wonderfully  like  Ida's.  Jack 
looked,  and  as  he  looked  he  became  convinced. 

"You  must  be  right,"  he  said.  "Ida  is  very 
much  like  you." 

"  You  think  so?"  said  Mrs.  Clifton,  eagerly. 

11  Yes,  madam." 

"I  had  a  picture  —  a  daguerreotype  —  taken  of 
Ida  just  before  I  lost  her ;  I  have  treasured  it  care- 
fully. I  must  show  it  to  you  when  we  get  to  my 
house." 

The  carriage  stopped  before  a  stately  mansion  in  a 
wide  and  quiet  street.  The  driver  dismounted  and 


292  JACK'S  WARD;  ojz, 

opened  the  door.  Jack  assisted  Mrs.  Clifton  to 
alight. 

Bashfully  our  hero  followed  the  lady  up  the  steps, 
and.  at  her  bidding,  seated  himself  in  an  elegant 
parlor  furnished  with  a  splendor  which  excited  his 
admiration  and  wonder.  He  had  little  time  to  look 
about  him,  for  Mrs.  Clifton,  without  pausing  to 
remove  her  street  attire,  hastened  downstairs  with 
an  open  daguerrotype  in  her  hand. 

4 '  Can  you  remember  Ida  when  she  was  first 
brought  to  your  house?"  she  asked.  "  Did  she  look 
anything  like  this  picture  ?  " 

"It  is  her  image,"  answered  Jack,  decidedly. 
"  I  should  know  it  anywhere." 

"  Then  there  can  be  no  further  doubt,"  said  Mrs. 
Clifton.  "  It  is  my  child  you  have  cared  for  so  long. 
Oh,  why  could  I  not  have  known  it  before?  How 
many  lonely  days  and  sleepless  nights  it  would  have 
spared  me !  But  God  be  thanked  for  this  late 
blessing !  I  shall  see  my  child  again." 

"  I  hope  so,  madam.    We  must  find  her." 

"  What  is  your  name,  my  young  friend?  " 

" My  name  is  Harding  —Jack  Harding." 


JACK   RECOGNIZES   THE   PICTURE. 


THE   BOY  GUARDIAN.  293 

"Jack?"  repeated  the  lady,  smiling. 

"Yes,  madam;  that  is  what  they  call  me.  It 
would  not  seem  natural  to  be  called  John." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Clifton,  with  a  smile  which 
went  to  Jack's  heart  at  once,  and  made  him  think 
ner,  if  anything,  more  beautiful  than  Ida;  "as  Ida 
is  your  adopted  sister  —  " 

"I  call  her  my  ward.  I  am  her  guardian,  you 
know." 

"You  are  a  young  guardian.  But,  as  I  was  about 
to  say,  that  makes  us  connected  in  some  way,  doesn't 
it?  I  won't  call  you  Mr.  Harding,  for  that  would 
Bound  too  formal.  I  will  call  you  Jack." 

"I  wish  you  would,"  said  our  hero,  his  face 
brightening  with  pride. 

It  almost  upset  him  to  be  called  Jack  by  a  beauti- 
*ul  lady,  who  every  day  of  her  life  was  accustomed  to 
live  in  a  splendor  which  it  seemed  to  Jack  could  not 
t>e  exceeded  even  by  royal  state.  Had  Mrs.  Clifton 
Ven  Queen  Victoria  herself,  he  could  not  have  felt  a 
^rofoundcr  respect  and  veneration  for  her  than  he 
did  already. 

"Now,  Jack,"  said  Mrs.   Clifton  in  a   friendly 


294  JACK'S  WARD;  <MZ, 

manner  waich  delighted  our  hero,  "we  must  take 
measures  to  discover  Ida  immediately.  I  want  you  to 
tell  me  about  her  disappearance  from  your  house, 
and  what  steps  you  have  taken  thus  far  towards 
finding  her." 

Jack  began  at  the  beginning,  and  described  the 
appearance  of  Mrs.  Hard  wick ;  how  she  had  been 
permitted  to  carry  Ida  away  under  false  representa- 
tions, and  the  manner  in  which  he  had  tracked  her 
to  Philadelphia.  He  spoke  finally  of  her  arrest,  and 
her  obstinate  refusal  to  impart  any  information  as  to 
where  Ida  was  concealed. 

Mrs.  Clifton  listened  attentively  and  anxiously. 
There  were  more  difficulties  in  the  way  than  she  had 
supposed. 

4 'Can  you  think  of  any  plan,  Jack?"  she  asked, 
anxiously. 

"  Yes,  madam,"  answered  Jack.  "The  man  who 
painted  the  picture  of  Ida  may  know  where  she  is  to 
be  found." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  the  lady.  *%  I  will  act  upon 
your  hint.  I  will  order  the  carriage  again  instantly, 
and  we  will  at  once  go  back  to  the  print-store." 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  295 

An  hour  later  Henry  Bowen  was  surprised  by  the 
visit  of  an  elegant  lady  to  his  studio,  accompanied 
by  a  young  man  of  seventeen. 

"I  think  you  are  the  artist  who  designed  'The 
Flower-girl'?"  said  Mrs.  Clifton. 

"  I  am,  madam." 

"  It  was  taken  from  life?" 

"  You  are  right." 

UI  am  anxious  to  find  the  little  girl  whose  face 
you  copied.  Can  you  give  me  any  directions  that 
will  enable  me  to  find  her?" 

"  I  will  accompany  you  to  the  place  where  she 
lives,  if  you  desire  it,  madam,"  said  the  young  artist, 
politely.  "  It  is  a  strange  neighborhood  in  which  to 
look  for  so  much  beauty." 

"  I  shall  be  deeply  indebted  to  you  if  you  will 
oblige  me  so  far,"  said  Mrs.  Clifton.  "  M}>-  carriage 
is  below,  and  my  coachman  will  obey  your  orders." 

Once  more  they  were  on  the  move.  In  due  time 
the  carriage  paused.  The  driver  opened  the  door. 
He  was  evidently  quite  scandalized  at  the  idea  of 
bringing  his  mistress  to  such  a  place. 

"  This  can't  be  the  place,  madam,"  lie  said. 


296  JACK'S  WARD;  ox, 

"Yes,"  said  the  artist.  "  Do  not  get  out,  Mrs. 
Clifton.  I  will  go  in,  and  find  out  all  that  is  need- 
ful." 

Two  minutes  later  he  returned,  looking  disap- 
pointed. 

"  We  are  too  late,"  he  said.  "  An  hour  since  a 
gentleman  called,  and  took  away  the  child." 

Mrs.  Clifton  sank  back  in  her  seat  in  keen  dis- 
appointment. 

"  My  child,  my  child ! "  she  murmured.  "  Shall  I 
ever  see  thee  again?" 

Jack,  too,  felt  more  disappointed  than  he  was 
willing  to  acknowledge.  He  could  not  conjecture 
what  gentleman  could  have  carried  away  Ida.  The 
affair  seemed  darker  and  more  complicated  than 
ever. 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  297 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

IDA  IS   FOUND. 

IDA  wjs  sitting  alone  in  the  dreary  apartment  which 
she  was  no^-  obliged  to  call  home.  Peg  had  gone  out, 
and,  not  feeling  quite  certain  of  her  prey,  had  bolted 
the  door  on  the  outside.  She  had  left  some  work  for 
the  child  —  some  handkerchiefs  to  hem  for  Dick  — 
with  strict  orders  to  keep  steadily  at  work. 

While  seated  at  work,  she  was  aroused  from 
thoughts  of  home  by  a  knock  at  the  door. 

"Who's  there?"  asked  Ida. 

"  A  friend,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Mrs.  Hard  wick  —  Peg  —  isn't  at  home,"  returned 
Ida.  "  I  don't  know  when  she  will  return." 

"Then  I  will  come  in  and  wait  till  she  comes 
back,"  answered  the  voice  outside. 

"I  can't  open  the  door,"  said  the  child.  "It's 
fastened  outside." 


298  JActfs  WARD;  ojf, 

"Yes,  so  I  see.  Then  I  will  take  the  liberty  to 
draw  the  bolt." 

Mr.  John  Somerville  opened  the  door,  and  for  the 
first  time  in  seven  years  his  glance  fell  upon  the  child 
whom  for  so  long  a  time  he  had  defrauded  of  a 
mother's  care  and  tenderness. 

Ida  returned  to  the  window. 

"  How  beautiful  she  is  ! "  thought  Somerville,  with 
surprise.  She  inherits  all  her  mother's  rare  beauty." 

On  the  table  beside  Ida  was  a  drawing.  "Whose 
is  this?"  he  inquired." 

"  Mine,"  answered  Ida. 

"  So  you  have  learned  to  draw?  " 

"A  little,"  answered  the  child,  modestly. 

"Who  taught  you?  Not  the  woman  you  live 
with?" 

"  No,"  said  Ida. 

"  You  have  not  always  lived  with  her,  I  am  sure? " 

"No,  sir." 

"You  lived  in  New  York  with  a  family  named 
Harding,  did  you  not?  " 

"Do  you  know  father  and  mother?"  asked  Ida 
with  sudden  hope.  "  Did  they  send  you  for  me  ?  " 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  299 

"  I  will  tell  you  that  by  and  by,  my  child,  but  I 
want  to  ask  you  a  few  questions  first.  Why  does  this 
woman,  Peg,  lock  you  in  whenever  she  goes  away  ?  " 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Ida,  "  she  is  afraid  I'll  run 
away." 

"Then  she  knows  you  don't  want  to  live  with 
her?" 

"Oh,  yes,  she  knows  that,"  said  the  child,  frankly. 
"I  have  asked  her  to  take  me  home,  but  she  says 
she  won't  for  a  year." 

"  And  how  long  have  you  been  with  her?  " 

"About  three  weeks,  but  it  seems  a  great  deal 
longer,"  answered  Ida,  with  a  sigh. 

"  What  does  she  make  you  do?  " 

"  I  can't  tell  what  she  made  me  do  first.0 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  she  would  be  very  angry." 

"  Suppose  I  should  promise  to  deliver  you  from 
her,  would  you  be  willing  to  go  with  me  ?  " 

"  And  you  would  carry  me  back  to  my  father  and 
mother?"  asked  Ida,  eagerly. 

"  Certainly,  I  would  restore  you  to  your  mother," 
was  the  evasive  reply. 


300  JACX?S  WARD;  on, 

"  Then  I  -will  go  with  you." 

Ida  ran  quickly  to  get  her  bonnet  and  shawl. 

"  We  had  better  go  at  once,"  said  Somerville. 
44  Peg  might  return,  you  know,  and  then  there  would 
be  trouble." 

"  Oh,  yes,  let  us  go  quickly,"  said  Ida,  turning 
pale  at  the  remembered  threats  of  Peg. 

Neither  knew  as  yet  that  Peg  could  not  return  if 
she  would;  that,  at  this  very  moment,  she  was  in 
legal  custody  on  a  charge  of  a  serious  nature.  Still 
less  did  Ida  know  that  in  going  she  was  losing  the 
chance  of  seeing  Jack  and  her  real  mother,  of  whose 
existence,  even,  she  was  not  yet  aware ;  and  that  thisr 
man,  whom  she  looked  upon  as  her  friend,  was  in 
reality  her  worst  enemy. 

"  I  will  conduct  you  to  my  own  rooms,  in  the  first 
place,"  said  her  companion.  "You  must  remain  in 
concealment  for  a  day  or  two,  as  Peg  will  undoubt- 
edly be  on  the  look-out  for  you,  and  we  want  to- 
avoid  all  trouble." 

Ida  was  delighted  with  her  escape,  and  with  the 
thoughts  of  soon  seeing  her  friends  in  New  York.  She 


THE  EOT  GUARDIAN.  801 

put  implicit  faith  in  her  guide,  and  was  willing  to 
submit  to  any  conditions  which  he  saw  fit  to  impose. 

On  emerging  into  the  street,  her  companion  sum- 
moned a  cab.  He  had  reasons  for  avoiding  public 
notice. 

At  length  they  reached  his  lodgings. 

They  were  furnished  more  richly  than  any  room 
Ida  had  yet  seen ;  and  formed,  indeed,  a  luxurious 
contrast  to  the  dark  and  scantily  furnished  apart- 
ment which  she  had  occupied  since  her  arrival  in 
Philadelphia. 

"Well,  you  are  glad  to  get  away  from  Peg?" 
asked  John  Somerville,  giving  Ida  a  comfortable  seat* 

"Oh,  so  glad!  "said  Ida. 

"  And  you  wouldn't  care  about  going  back?" 

The  child  shuddered. 

"I  suppose,"  she  said,  "Peg  will  be  very  angry* 
She  would  beat  me,  if  she  got  me  back  again." 

"But  she  sha'n't.     I  will  take  good  care  of  that." 

Ida  looked  her  gratitude.  Her  heart  went  out  to 
those  who  appeared  to  deal  kindly  with  her,  and  she 
felt  very  grateful  to  her  companion  for  delivering 
her  from  Peg. 


302  JACK'S  WARD;  GJZ, 

"Now,"  said  Somerville,  "perhaps  you  will  be 
willing  to  tell  me  what  it  was  Peg  required  you  to 
do." 

"  Yes,"  said  Ida ;  "  but  she  must  never  know  that 
I  told." 

"  I  promise  not  to  tell  her." 

"It  was  to  pass  bad  money." 

"Ha!"  exclaimed  her  companion,  quickly. 
"What  sort  of  bad  money?" 

"  It  was  bad  bills." 

"  Did  she  do  much  in  that  way?" 

"  A  good  deal.  She  goes  out  every  day  to  buy 
things  with  the  money." 

"I  am  glad  to  learn  this,"  said  John  Somerville, 
thoughtfully. 

"  Why?"  asked  Ida,  curiously,  "  are  you  glad  she 
is  wicked?" 

"I  am  glad,  because  she  won't  dare  to  come  for 
you,  knowing  I  can  have  her  put  in  prison." 

"Then  I  am  glad,  too." 

"Ida,"  said  her  companion,  after  a  pause,  "  I  am 
obliged  to  go  out  for  a  short  time.  You  will  find 
books  on  the  table,  and  can  amuse  yourself  by 


THE  JBOT  GUARDIAN.  303 

reading.  I  won't  make  you  sew,  as  Peg  did,"  he 
added,  smiling. 

Ida  laughed. 

"  I  like  to  read,"  she  said.  "  I  shall  enjoy  myself 
very  well." 

"  If  you  get  tired  of  reading,  you  can  draw.  You 
will  find  plenty  of  paper  on  my  desk." 

Mr.  Somerville  went  out,  and  Ida,  as  he  had 
recommended,  read  for  a  time.  Then,  growing  tired, 
she  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out.  A  carriage 
was  passing  up  the  street  slowly,  on  account  of  a 
press  of  other  carriages.  Ida  saw  a  face  that  she 
knew.  Forgetting  her  bonnet  in  her  sudden  joy,  she 
ran  down  the  stairs  into  the  street,  and  up  to  the 
carriage-  window . 

"  O  Jack !  "  she  exclaimed ;  "  have  you  come  for 
me?" 

It  was  Mrs.  Clifton's  carriage,  just  returning  from 
Peg's  lodgings. 

"  Why,  it's  Ida  ! "  exclaimed  Jack,  almost  spring- 
ing through  the  window  of  the  carriage  in  his 
excitement.  "  Where  did  you  come  from,  and  where 
have  you  been  all  this  time  ?  " 


304  JACK9 s  WARD;  GJJ, 

He  opened  the  door  of  the  carriage,  and  drew  Ida 
in. 

"  My  child,  my  child !  Thank  God,  you  are 
restored  to  me ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Clifton. 

She  drew  the  astonished  child  to  her  bosom.  Ida 
looked  up  into  her  face  in  bewilderment.  Was  it 
Nature  that  prompted  her  to  return  the  lady's 
embrace  ? 

"  My  God,  I  thank  thee ! "  murmured  Mrs.  Clifton, 
"  for  this,  my  child,  was  lost,  and  is  found." 

"  Ida,"  said  Jack,  u  this  lady  is  your  mother." 

"  My  mother ! "  repeated  the  astonished  child. 
"Have  I  got  two  mothers?" 

"  This  is  your  real  mother.  You  were  brought  to 
our  house  when  you  were  an  infant,  and  we  have 
always  taken  care  of  you ;  but  this  lady  is  your  real 
mother." 

Ida  hardly  knew  whether  to  feel  glad  or  sorry. 

"  And  you  are  not  my  brother,  Jack? " 

"  No,  I  am  your  guardian,"  said  Jack,  smiling. 

"  You  shall  still  consider  him  your  brother,  Ida," 
said  Mrs.  Clifton.  "  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should 
seek  to  wean  your  heart  from  the  Mends  who  have 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  305 

cared  so  kindly  for  you  I  You  may  keep  all  your 
old  friends,  and  love  them  as  dearly  as  ever.  You 
will  only  have  one  friend  the  more." 

"  Where  are  we  going?  "  asked  Ida,  suddenly. 

"  We  are  going  home." 

"  What  will  the  gentleman  say?  " 

"What  gentleman?" 

"  The  one  that  took  me  away  from  Peg's.  Why, 
there  he  is  now !  " 

Mrs.  Clifton  followed  the  direction  of  Ida's  finger, 
as  she  pointed  to  a  gentleman  passing. 

"  Is  he  the  one?"  asked  Mrs.  Clifton,  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  mamma,"  answered  Ida,  shyly. 

Mrs.  Clifton  pressed  Ida  to  her  bosom.  It  was 
the  first  time  she  had  ever  been  called  mamma,  for 
when  Ida  had  been  taken  from  her  she  was  too 
young  to  speak.  The  sudden  thrill  which  this  name 
excited  made  her  realize  the  full  measure  of  her 
present  happiness. 

Arrived  at  the  house,  Jack's  bashfulness  returned. 
Even  Ida's  presence  did  not  remove  it.  He  hung 
back,  and  hesitated  about  going  in. 

Mrs.  Clifton  observed  this. 
20 


306  JACtfs  WARD;  on, 

"  Jack,"  she  said,  "  this  house  is  to  be  your  home 
while  you  are  in  Philadelphia.  Come  in,  and  Thomas 
shall  go  for  your  luggage." 

"Perhaps  I  had  better  go  with  him,"  said  Jaok. 
"  Uncle  Abel  will  be  glad  to  know  that  Ida  is  found." 

"  Very  well ;  only  return  soon.  As  you  are  Ida's 
guardian,"  she  added,  smiling,  "  you  will  need  to 
'vatch  over  her." 

"  Well ! "  thought  Jack,  as  he  re-entered  the  elegant 
.arriage,  and  gave  the  proper  direction  to  the  coach- 
man, "  won't  Uncle  Abel  be  a  little  surprised  when 
he  sees  me  coming  home  in  this  style  !  Mrs.  Clifton's 
a  trump !  Maybe  that  aint  exactly  the  word,  but 
Ida's  in  luck  anyhow." 


THE  LOT  GUARDIAN.  307 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

NEVER  TOO  LATE  TO  MEND. 

MEANWHILE  Peg  was  passing  her  time  wearily 
enough  in  prison.  It  was  certainly  provoking  to  be 
deprived  of  her  freedom  just  when  she  was  likely  to 
make  it  most  profitable.  After  some  reflection  she 
determined  to  send  for  Mrs.  Clifton,  and  reveal  to  her 
all  she  knew,  trusting  to  her  generosity  for  a  recom- 
pense. 

To  one  of  the  officers  of  the  prison  she  communi- 
cated the  intelligence  that  she  had  an  important  reve- 
lation to  make  to  Mrs.  Clifton,  absolutely  refusing  to 
make  it  unless  the  lady  would  visit  her  in  prison. 

Scarcely  had  Mrs.  Clifton  returned  home  after  re- 
covering her  child,  than  the  bell  rang,  and  a  stranger 
was  introduced. 

"  Is  this  Mrs.  Clifton?  "  he  inquired. 

"  It  is." 

"  Then  I  have  a  message  for  you." 


808  JAC&S  WARD;  OR, 

The  lady  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

"Let  me  introduce  myself,  madam,  as  one  of  the 
officers  connected  with  the  City  Prison.  A  woman 
was  placed  in  confinement  this  morning,  who  says  she 
has  a  most  important  communication  to  make  to  you, 
but  declines  to  make  it  except  to  you  in  person." 

"  Can  you  bring  her  here,  sir  ?  " 

"That  is  impossible.  We  will  give  you  every 
facility,  however,  for  visiting  her  in  prison." 

"  It  must  be  Peg,"  whispered  Ida, —  "  the  woman 
that  carried  me  off." 

Such  a  request  Mrs.  Clifton  could  not  refuse.  She 
at  once  made  ready  to  accompany  the  officer.  She 
resolved  to  carry  Ida  with  her,  fearful  that,  unless 
she  kept  her  in  her  immediate  presence,  she  might 
disappear  again  as  before. 

As  Jack  had  not  yet  returned,  a  hack  was  sum- 
moned, and  they  proceeded  at  once  to  the  prison. 
Ida  shuddered  as  she  passed  within  the  gloomy  portal 
which  shut  out  hope  and  the  world  from  so  many. 

"  This  way,  madam ! " 

They  followed  the  officer  through  a  gloomy  corn- 


THE  BOY   GUARDIAN.  309 

dor,  until  they  came  to  the  cell  in  which  Peg  was 
confined. 

Peg  looked  up  in  surprise  when  she  saw  Ida  enter 
with  Mrs.  Clifton. 

"What  brought  you  two  together?"  she  asked 
abruptly. 

"  A  blessed  Providence,"  answered  Mrs.  Clifton. 

"  I  saw  Jack  with  her,"  said  Ida,  "  and  I  ran  out 
into  the  street.  I  didn't  expect  to  find  my  mother." 

"  There  is  not  so  much  for  me  to  tell,  then,"  said 
Peg.  "I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  restore  you  to 
your  mother.  You  see,  Ida,  I've  moved,"  she  con- 
tinued, smiling  grimly.  "  Tell  your  mother  to  sit 
down  on  the  bed.  I'm  sorry  I  haven't  any  rocking- 
chair  or  sofa  to  offer  you." 

"  O  Peg,"  said  Ida,  her  tender  heart  melted  by 
the  woman's  misfortunes,  uhow  sorry  I  am  to  find 
you  here ! " 

"  Are  you  sorry  ?  "  asked  Peg,  looking  at  her  in  curi- 
ous surprise.  "  You  haven't  much  cause  to  be.  I've 
beeE  your  worst  enemy  ;  at  any  rate  one  of  the  worst." 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  said  the  child,  her  face  beaming 
with  a  divine  compassion.  "  It  must  be  so  sad  to  be 


310  jActfs  WARD;  OB, 

shut  up  here,  and  not  be  able  to  go  out  into  the 
bright  sunshine.  I  do  pity  you." 

Peg's  heart  was  not  wholly  hardened.  Few  are. 
But  it  was  long  since  it  had  been  touched,  as  now,  by 
this  warm-hearted  pity  on  the  part  of  one  whom  she 
had  injured. 

"  You're  a  good  girl,  Ida,"  she  said,  "  and  Fm 
sorry  I've  injured  you.  I  didn't  think  I  should  ever 
ask  forgiveness  of  anybody ;  but  I  do  ask  your  for- 
giveness." 

The  child  rose,  and  advancing  towards  her  old 
enemy,  took  her  large  hand  in  hers  and  said,  "  I  for- 
give you,  Peg." 

"  From  your  heart?  " 

"  With  all  my  heart." 

4  i  Thank  you,  child.  I  feel  better  now.  There 
have  been  times  when  I  have  thought  I  should  like  to 
lead  a  better  life." 

"  It  is  not  too  late  now,  Peg." 

Peg  shook  her  head. 

4 'Who  will  trust  me  when  I  come  out  of  here?** 
she  said. 

"  I  will,"  said  Mrs.  Clifton. 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  811 

"  You  will?  "  repeated  Peg,  amazed. 

"  Yes." 

"  After  all  I  have  done  to  harm  you !  But  I  am 
not  quite  so  bad  as  you  may  think.  It  was  not  my 
plan  to  take  Ida  from  you.  I  was  poor,  and  money 
tempted  me." 

*'  Who  could  have  had  an  interest  in  doing  me  this 
cruel  wrong  ?  "  asked  the  mother. 

44  One  whom  you  know  well, — Mr.  John  Somer- 
ville." 

"  Surely  you  are  wrong ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Clifton, 
in  unbounded  astonishment.  "  That  cannot  be. 
What  object  could  he  have?  * 

"Can  you  think  of  none?"  queried  Peg,  looking 
at  her  shrewdly. 

Mrs.  Clifton  changed  color. 

"  Perhaps  so,"  she  said.     "  Go  on." 

Peg  told  the  whole  story,  so  circumstantially  that 
there  was  no  room  for  doubt. 

"  I  did  not  believe  him  capable  of  such  great  wick- 
edness," ejaculated  Mrs.  Clifton,  with  a  pained  and 
indignant  look.  "  It  was  a  base,  unmanly  revenge  to 
take.  How  could  you  lend  yourself  to  it  ?  " 


312  JACE?S  WARD;  OJB, 

"How  could  I?"  repeated  Peg.  "Madam,  you 
are  rich.  You  have  always  had  whatever  wealth 
could  procure.  How  can  such  as  you  understand  the 
temptations  of  the  poor?  When  want  and  hunger 
stare  us  in  the  face  we  have  not  the  strength  that  you 
have  in  your  luxurious  homes." 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Mrs.  Clifton,  touched  by  these 
words,  half  bitter,  half  pathetic.  "  Let  me,  at  any 
rate,  thank  you  for  the  service  you  have  done  me  now. 
When  you  are  released  from  your  confinement  come 
to  me.  If  you  wish  to  change  your  mode  of  life,  and 
live  honestly  henceforth,  I  will  give  you  the  chance." 

"  You  will?    Promise  me  that,"  said  Peg,  eagerly. 

"I  promise." 

"After  all  the  injury  I  have  done  you,  you  are 
yet  willing  to  trust  me  ?  " 

"  Who  am  I  that  I  should  condemn  you?  Yes,  I 
will  trust  you,  and  forgive  you." 

"  I  never  expected  to  hear  such  words,"  said  Peg, 
her  heart  softened,  and  her  arid  eyes  moistened  by 
unwonted  emotion ;  "  least  of  all  from  you.  I  should 
like  to  ask  one  thing." 

"What  is  it?" 


THE  EOT  GUARDIAN.  313 

"Will  you  let  her  come  and  see  me  sometimes?" 
pointing  to  Ida  as  she  spoke.  "  It  will  remind  me 
that  this  is  not  all  a  dream,  —  these  words  which  you 
have  spoken." 

"  She  shall  come,"  said  Mrs.  Clifton,  "  and  I  will 
come  too,  sometimes." 

"  Thank  you." 

They  left  the  prison  behind  them,  and  returned 
home. 

There  was  a  visitor  awaiting  them. 

"  Mr.  Somerville  is  in  the  drawing-room,"  said  the 
servant.  "  He  said  he  would  wait  till  you  came  in." 

Mrs.  Clifton's  face  flushed. 

"I  will  go  down  and  see  him,"  she  said.  "Ida, 
you  will  remain  here." 

She  descended  to  the  drawing-room,  and  met  the 
man  who  had  injured  her.  He  had  come  with 
the  resolve  to  stake  his  all  upon  one  desperate  cast. 
His  fortunes  were  desperate.  But  he  had  one  hope 
left.  Through  the  mother's  love  for  the  daughter, 
whom  she  had  mourned  so  long,  whom  as  he  believed 
he  had  it  in  his  power  to  restore  to  her,  he  hoped  to 


314  JACK'S  WARD;  oiz, 

obtain  her  consent  to  a  marriage  which  would  retrieve 
his  fortunes,  and  gratify  his  ambition. 

Mrs.  Clifton  entered  the  room,  and  seated  herself 
quietly.  She  bowed  slightly,  but  did  not,  as  usual,, 
offer  her  hand.  But,  full  of  his  own  plans,  Mr.  Som- 
erville  took  no  note  of  this  change  in  her  manner. 

"How  long  is  it  since  Ida  was  lost?"  inquired 
Somerville,  abruptly. 

Mrs.  Clifton  heard  this  question  in  surprise.  Why 
was  it  that  he  had  alluded  to  this  subject? 

"  Seven  years,"  she  answered. 

"  And  you  believe  she  yet  lives? " 

"  Yes,  I  am  certain  of  it." 

John  Somerville  did  not  understand  her.  He- 
thought  it  was  only  because  a  mother  is  reluctant 
to  give  up  hope. 

"  It  is  a  long  time,"  he  said. 

"  It  is  —  a  long  time  to  suffer,"  said  Mrs.  Cliftonr 
with  deep  meaning.  "  How  could  any  one  have  the 
heart  to  work  me  this  great  injury  ?  For  seven  years 
I  have  led  a  sad  and  solitary  life  —  seven  years  that 
might  have  been  gladdened  and  cheered  by  my 
darling's  presence \n 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  315 

There  was  something  in  her  tone  that  puzzled  John 
Somerville,  but  he  was  far  enough  from  suspecting 
that  she  knew  the  truth,  and  at  last  knew  him  too. 

"  Rosa,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  "  I,  too,  believe 
that  Ida  still  lives.  Do  you  love  her  well  enough  to 
make  a  sacrifice  for  the  sake  of  recovering  her?" 

"  What  sacrifice?"  she  asked,  fixing  her  eye  upon 
turn. 

11  A  sacrifice  of  your  feelings." 

"  Explain.     You  speak  in  enigmas." 

"  Listen,  then.  I  have  already  told  you  that  I,  too, 
believe  Ida  to  be  living.  Indeed,  I  have  lately  come 
upon  a  clue  which  I  think  will  lead  me  to  her. 
Withdraw  the  opposition  you  have  twice  made  to  my 
suit,  promise  me  that  you  will  reward  my  affection 
by  your  hand  if  I  succeed,  and  I  will  devote  myself 
to  the  search  for  Ida,  resting  not  day  or  night  till  I 
have  placed  her  in  your  arms.  This  I  am  ready  to 
do.  If  I  succeed,  may  I  claim  my  reward  ?  " 

"  What  reason  have  you  for  thinking  you  would  be 
able  to  find  her  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Clifton,  with  the  same 
inexplicable  manner. 

"  The  clue  that  I  spoke  of." 


316  JActfs  WARD;  OB, 

"  And  are  you  not  generous  enough  to  exert  your- 
self without  demanding  of  me  this  sacrifice  ?  " 

"  No,  Rosa,"  he  answered  firmly,  "I  am  not  un- 
selfish enough.  I  have  long  loved  you.  You  may 
not  love  me  ;  but  I  am  sure  I  can  make  you  happy. 
I  am  forced  to  show  myself  selfish,  since  it  is  the 
only  way  in  which  I  can  win  you." 

"  But  consider  a  moment.  Put  it  on  a  different 
ground.  If  you  restore  me  my  child  now,  will  not 
even  that  be  a  poor  atonement  for  the  wrong  you  did 
me  seven  years  since," — she  spoke  rapidly  now, — 
"  for  the  grief,  and  loneliness,  and  sorrow  which  your 
wickedness  and  cruelty  have  wrought?" 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  he  said,  faltering. 

"It  is  sufficient  explanation,  Mr.  Somerville,  to 
say  I  have  seen  the  woman  who  is  now  in  prison,  — 
your  paid  agent,  —  and  that  I  need  no  assistance  to 
recover  Ida.  She  is  in  my  house." 

"Confusion!" 

He  uttered  only  this  word,  and,  rising,  left  the  pres- 
ence of  the  woman  whom  he  had  so  long  deceived 
and  injured. 

His  grand  scheme  had  failed. 


?HB  ROY  GUARDIAN.  317 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 
JACK'S  RETURN. 

IT  is  quite  time  to  return  to  New  York,  from  which 
Ida  was  carried  but  three  short  weeks  before. 

"  I  am  beginning  to  feel  anxious  about  Jack." 
said  Mrs.  Harding.  "  It's  more  than  a  week  since 
we  heard  from  him.  I'm  afraid  he's  got  into  some 
trouble." 

"  Probably  he's  too  busy  to  write,"  said  the  cooper, 
wishing  to  relieve  his  wife's  anxiety,  though  he,  too, 
was  not  without  anxiety. 

"  I  told  you  so,"  said  Rachel,  in  one  of  her  usual 
fits  of  depression.  '*  I  told  you  Jack  wasn't  fit  to  be 
sent  on  such  an  errand.  If  you'd  only  taken  my 
advice  you  wouldn't  have  had  so  much  worry  and 
trouble  about  him  now.  Most  likely  he's  got  into  the 
House  of  Reformation,  or  somewhere.  I  knew  a 
young  man  once  who  went  away  from  home,  and 
never  came  back  again.  Nobody  ever  knew  what 


318  JACK'S  WARD;  o/?, 

became  of  him  till  his  body  was  found  in  the  river 
half-eaten  by  fishes." 

"  How  can  you  talk  so,  Rachel?"  said  Mrs.  Hard- 
ing, ' '  and  about  your  own  nephew  too  ?  " 

4 '  This  is  a  world  of  trial  and  disappointment," 
said  Rachel,  "  and  we  might  as  well  expect  the 
worst,  for  it's  sure  to  come." 

"  At  that  rate  there  wouldn't  be  much  joy  in  life," 
said  Timothy.  "  No,  Rachel,  you  are  wrong.  God 
did  not  send  us  into  the  world  to  be  melancholy.  He 
wants  us  to  enjoy  ourselves.  Now,  I  have  no  idea 
that  Jack  has  jumped  into  the  river,  or  become  food 
for  the  fishes.  Even  if  he  should  happen  to  tumble 
in,  he  can  swim." 

"I  suppose,"  said  Rachel,  with  mild  sarcasm, 
"  you  expect  him  to  come  home  in  a  coach  and  four, 
bringing  Ida  with  him." 

"  Well,"  said  the  cooper,  good-humoredly,  "  that's 
a  good  deal  better  to  anticipate  than  your  suggestion, 
and  I  don't  know  but  it's  as  probable." 

Rachel  shook  her  head  dismally. 

"  I  feel  as  if  something  was  going  to  happen,"  she 
said  dolefully.  "  If  s  best  to  be  prepared  for  it." 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  319 

"Bless  me!"  interrupted  Mrs.  Harding,  looking 
out  of  the  window,  in  a  tone  of  excitement,  "  there's 
a  carriage  just  stopped  at  the  door,  and — yes,  it  is 
Jack  and  Ida,  too  ! " 

The  strange  fulfilment  of  her  own  ironical  sugges- 
tion struck  even  Aunt  Rachel.  She,  too,  hastened  to 
the  window,  and  saw  a  handsome  carriage  drawn,  not 
by  four  horses,  but  by  two,  standing  before  the  door. 

Jack  had  already  jumped  out,  and  was  now  assist- 
ing Ida  to  alight.  No  sooner  was  Ida  on  firm  ground 
than  she  ran  into  the  house,  and  was  at  once  clasped 
in  the  arms  of  her  adopted  mother. 

"O  mother,"  she  exclaimed,  "how  glad  I  am  to 
see  you  once  more ! " 

"  Haven't  you  a  kiss  for  me,  too,  Ida?"  said  the 
cooper,  his  face  radiant  with  joy.  "  You  don't  know 
how  much  we've  missed  you." 

"And  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you  all,  and  Aunt 
Rachel,  too!" 

To  her  astonishment,  Aunt  Rachel,  for  the  first 
time  in  her  remembrance,  kissed  her.  There  was 
nothing  wanting  to  her  welcome  home. 

But  the  observant  eyes  of  the  spinster  detected 


320  JACK'S  WARD;  ox, 

what  had  escaped  the  cooper  and  his  wife,  in  their  joy 
at  Ida's  return. 

"Where  did  you  get  this  handsome  dress,  Ida?" 
ihe  asked. 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  the  cooper's  family  noticed 
that  Ida  was  more  elegantly  dressed  than  when  she 
went  away.  She  looked  like  a  young  princess. 

"  That  Mrs.  Hardwick  didn't  give  you  this  gown, 
I'll  be  bound ! "  said  Aunt  Rachel. 

"  Oh,  I've  so  much  to  tell  you,"  said  Ida, 
oreathlessly.  "I've  found  my  mother, —  my  other 
mother ! " 

A  pang  struck  to  the  honest  hearts  of  Timothy 
Harding  and  his  wife.  Ida  must  leave  them.  After 
all  the  happy  years  which  they  had  watched  over  and 
cared  for  her,  she  must  leave  them  at  length. 

While  they  were  silent  in  view  of  their  threatened 
loss,  an  elegantly  dressed  lady  appeared  on  the 
threshold.  Smiling,  radiant  with  happiness,  Mrs. 
Clifton  seemed,  to  the  cooper's  family,  almost  a  being 
from  another  sphere. 

"Mother,"  said  Ida,  taking  the  hand  of  the 
stranger,  and  leading  her  up  to  Mrs.  Harding,  "  this 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  321 

is  my  other  mother,  who  has  always  taken  such  good 
care  of  me,  and  loved  me  so  well." 

"  Mrs.  Harding,"  said  Mrs.  Clifton,  her  voice  full 
of  feeling,  ' '  how  can  I  ever  thank  you  for  your  kind- 
ness to  my  child  ?  " 

44 My  child!" 

It  was  hard  for  Mrs.  Harding  to  hear  another 
speak  of  Ida  this  way. 

"  I  have  tried  to  do  my  duty  by  her,"  she  said 
simply.  "  I  love  her  as  if  she  were  my  own." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  cooper,  clearing  his  throat,  and 
speaking  a  little  huskily,  "  we  love  her  so  much 
that  we  almost  forgot  that  she  wasn't  ours.  We  have 
had  her  since  she  was  a  baby,  and  it  won't  be  easy  at 
first  to  give  her  up." 

11  My  good  friends,"  said  Mrs.  Clifton,  earnestly, 
"I  acknowledge  your  claim.  I  shall  not  think  of 
asking  you  to  make  that  sacrifice.  I  shall  always 
think  of  Ida  as  only  a  little  less  yours  than  mine." 

The  cooper  shook  his  head. 

'"'But  you  live  in  Philadelphia,"  he  said.  "We 
shall  lose  sight  of  her." 

21 


322  JAC^S  WARD;  0J2, 

"  Not  unless  you  refuse  to  come  to  Philadelphia, 
too." 

"I  am  a  poor  man.  Perhaps  I  might  not  find 
work  there." 

"That  shall  be  my  care,  Mr.  Harding.  I  have 
another  inducement  to  offer.  God  has  bestowed 
upon  me  a  large  share  of  this  world's  goods.  I  am 
thankful  for  it  since  it  will  enable  me  in  some  slight 
way  to  express  my  sense  of  your  great  kindness  to 
Ida.  I  own  a  neat  brick  house,  in  a  quiet  street, 
which  3^ou  will  find  more  comfortable  than  this. 
Just  before  I  left  Philadelphia,  my  lawyer,  by  my 
directions,  drew  up  a  deed  of  gift,  conveying  the 
house  to  you.  It  is  Ida's  gift,  not  mine.  Ida,  give 
this  to  Mr.  Harding." 

The  child  took  the  parchment  and  handed  it  to  the 
cooper,  who  took  it  mechanically,  quite  bewildered 
by  his  sudden  good  fortune. 

"  This  for  me  ?  "  he  said. 

"  It  is  the  first  instalment  of  my  debt  of  gratitude  ; 
it  shall  not  be  the  last,"  said  Mrs.  Clifton. 

"How  shall   I    thank  you,   madam?"    said    the- 


THE  SOT  GUARDIAN.  323 

Cooper.  "To  a  poor  man,  like  me,  this  is  a  most 
munificent  gift." 

"  You  will  best  thank  me  by  accepting  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Clifton.  "  Let  me  add,  for  I  know  it  will 
enhance  the  value  of  the  gift  in  your  eyes,  that  it  is 
only  five  minutes'  walk  from  my  own  house,  and  Ida 
will  come  and  see  you  every  day." 

"  Yes,  mamma,"  said  Ida.  "  I  couldn't  be  happy 
away  from  father  and  mother,  and  Jack  and  Aunt 
Rachel." 

"  You  must  introduce  me  to  Aunt  Rachel,"  said 
Mrs.  Clifton,  with  a  grace  all  her  own. 

Ida  did  so. 

"I  am  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance,  Miss 
Rachel,"  said  Mrs.  Clifton.  I  need  not  say  that  I 
shall  be  glad  to  see  you,  as  well  as  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Harding,  at  my  house  very  frequently." 

"I'm  much  obleeged  to  ye,"  said  Aunt  Rachel; 
u  but  I  don't  think  I  shall  live  long  to  go  anywheres. 
The  feelin's  I  have  sometimes  warn  me  that  I'm  not 
long  for  this  world." 

"  You  see,  Mrs.  Clifton,"  said  Jack,  his  eyes 
dancing  with  mischief,  "  we  come  of  a  short-lived 


324  JACE?S  WARD;  O.R, 

family.  Grandmother  died  at  eighty-two,  and  that 
wouldn't  give  Aunt  Rachel  long  to  live." 

"  You  impudent  boy ! "  exclaimed  Miss  Rachel,  in 
great  indignation.  Then,  relapsing  inta  melancholy, 
"  I'm  a  poor,  afflicted  creetur,  and  the  sooner  I  leave 
this  scene  of  trial  the  better." 

"I'm  afraid,  Mrs.  Clifton,"  said  Jack,  "Aunt 
Rachel  won't  live  to  wear  that  silk  dress  you  brought 
along.  I'd  take  it  myself,  but  I'm  afraid  it  wouldn't 
be  of  any  use  to  me." 

"  A  silk  dress !  "  exclaimed  Rachel,  looking  up 
with  sudden  animation. 

It  had  long  been  her  desire  to  have  a  new  silk 
dress,  but  in  her  brother's  circumstances  she  had  not 
ventured  to  hint  at  it. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Clifton,  "  I  ventured  to  pur- 
chase dresses  for  both  of  the  ladies.  Jack,  if  it 
won't  be  too  much  trouble,  will  you  bring  them  in  ? " 

Jack  darted  out,  and  returned  with  two  ample 
patterns  of  heavy  black  silk,  one  for  his  mother,  the 
other  for  his  aunt.  Aunt  Rachel  would  not  have 
been  human  if  she  had  not  eagerly  examined  the 


T&.E  HOY   GVAMDIAN.  820 

rich  fabnc  with  secret  satisfaction.  She  inwardly 
resolved  to  live  a  little  longer." 

There  was  a  marked  improvement  in  her  spirits, 
and  she  indulged  in  no  prognostications  of  evil  for  an 
unusual  period. 

Mrs.  Clifton  and  Ida  stopped  to  supper,  and 
before  they  returned  to  the  hotel  an  early  date  was 
fixed  upon  for  the  Hardings  to  remove  to  Phila- 
delphia. 

In  the  evening  Jack  told  the  eventful  story  of  his 
adventures  to  eager  listeners,  closing  with  the  wel- 
come news  that  he  was  to  receive  the  reward  of  a 
thousand  dollars  offered  for  the  detection  of  the 
counterfeiters. 

"  So  you  see,  father,  I  am  a  man  of  fortune !  "  he 
concluded. 

1  'After  all,  Rachel,  it  was  a  good  thing  we  sent 
J&ck  to  Philadelphia,"  said  the  cooper. 

Rachel  did  not  notice  this  remark.  She  was 
busily  discussing  with  her  sister-in-law  the  best  way 
of  making  up  her  new  silk. 


326  JACK'S  WARD;  o*. 


CHAPTER    XXXVI, 

CONCLUSION. 

As  soon  as  arrangements  could  be  made,  Mr. 
Harding  and  his  whole  family  removed  to  Philadel- 
phia. The  house  which  Mrs.  Clifton  had  given  them 
exceeded  their  anticipations.  It  was  so  much  better 
and  larger  than  their  former  dwelling  that  their 
furniture  would  have  appeared  to  great  disadvantage 
in  it.  But  Mrs.  Clifton  had  foreseen  this,  and  they 
found  the  house  already  furnished  for  their  reception. 
Even  Aunt  Rachel  was  temporarily  exhilarated  in 
spirits  when  she  was  ushered  into  the  neatly  furnished 
chamber  which  was  assigned  to  her  use. 

Through  Mrs.  Clifton's  influence  the  cooper  was 
enabled  to  establish  himself  in  business  on  a  larger 
scale,  and  employ  others,  instead  of  working  himself 
for  hire.  Ida  was  such  a  frequent  visitor  that  it  was 
hard  to  tell  which  she  considered  her  home,  —  her 


THE  &OY  GUARDIAN.  327 

mother's  elegant  residence,  or  the  cooper's  comfort- 
able dwelling. 

Jack  put  his  thousand  dollars  into  a  savings-bank, 
to  accumulate  till  he  should  be  ready  to  go  into  busi- 
ness for  himself,  and  required  it  as  capital.  A 
situation  was  found  for  him  in  a  merchant's  counting- 
room,  and  in  due  time  he  was  admitted  into  partner- 
ship, and  became  a  thriving  young  merchant. 

Ida  grew  lovelier  as  she  grew  older,  and  her  rare 
beauty  and  attractive  manners  caused  her  to  be 
sought  after.  It  may  be  that  some  of  my  readers  are 
expecting  that  she  will  marry  Jack;  but  they  will 
probably  be  disappointed.  They  are  too  much  like 
brother  and  sister  for  such  a  relation  to  be  thought 
of.  Jack  reminds  her  occasionally  of  the  time  when 
she  was  his  little  ward,  and  he  was  her  guardian 
and  protector. 

One  day  as  Eachel  was  walking  up  Chestnut  street, 
she  was  astonished  by  a  hearty  grasp  of  the  hand 
from  a  bronzed  and  weather-beaten  stranger. 

"  Release  me,  sir,"  she  said  hysterically.  "  What 
do  you  mean  by  such  conduct?" 


328  JACK'S  WARD;  ojz, 

"  Surely  you  have  not  forgotten  your  old  friend, 
Captain  Bowling,"  said  the  stranger. 

Rachel  brightened  up. 

"  I  didn't  remember  you  at  first,"  she  said,  "  but 
now  I  do." 

"  Now  tell  me,  how  are  all  your  family?" 

"  They  are  all  well,  all  except  me,  — I  don't  think 
I  am  long  for  this  world." 

11  Oh,  yes,  you  are.  You  are  too  young  to  think 
of  leaving  us  yet,"  said  Captain  Bowling,  heartily. 

Rachel  was  gratified  by  this  unusual  compliment. 

"Are  you  married?"  asked  Captain  Bowling, 
abruptly. 

Rachel  blushed. 

"  I  shall  never  marry,"  she  said.  "  I  shouldn't 
daie  to  trust  my  happiness  to  a  man." 

"  Not  if  I  were  that  man,"  said  the  captain  per- 
suasively. 

"O  Captain  Bowling!"  murmured  Rachel,  agi- 
tated. "  How  can  you  say  such  things  ?  " 

"I'll  tell  you  why,  Miss  Harding.  I'm  going  to 
give  up  the  sea,  and  settle  down  on  land.  I  shall 


THE  EOT  GUARDIAN.  329 

need  a  good,  sensible  wife,  and  if  you'll  take  me,  I'll 
make  you  Mrs.  Bowling  at  once. 

"  This  is  so  unexpected,  Captain  Bowling,"  said 
Rachel ;  but  she  did  not  look  displeased.  "  Do  you 
think  it  would  be  proper  to  marry  *  so  suddenly?" 

"It  will  be  just  the  thing  to  do.  Now,  what  do 
you  say  —  yes  or  no  ?  " 

"  If  you  really  think  it  will  be  right,"  faltered  the 
agitated  spinster. 

"Then  it's  all  settled." 

"  What  will  Timothy  say?" 

"  That  you've  done  a  sensible  thing." 

Two  hours  later,  leaning  on  Captain  Bowling's  arm, 
Mrs.  Rachel  Bowling  re-entered  her  brother's  house. 

"Why,  Rachel,  where  have  you  been?"  asked 
Mrs.  Harding,  and  she  looked  hard  at  Rachel's  com- 
panion. 

"This  is  my  consort,  Captain  Bowling,"  said 
Kachel,  nervously. 

"  This  is  Mrs.  Bowling,  ma'am,"  said  the  captain. 

"When  were  you  married?"  asked  the  cooper  (it 
was  dinner  time,  and  both  he  and  Jack  were  at 
home) . 


330  JACX?S  WARD;  os, 

"  Only  an  hour  ago.  We'd  have  invited  you,  but 
time  was  pressing." 

"I  thought  you  never  meant  to  be  married,  Aunt 
Rachel,"  said  Jack,  mischievously. 

"I  —  I  don't  expect  to  live  long,  and  it  won't 
make  much  difference,"  said  Rachel. 

"  You'll  have  to  consult  me  about  that,"  said 
Captain  Bowling.  "I  don't  want  you  to  leave  me 
a  widower  too  soon." 

"I  propose  that  we  drink  Mrs.  Bowling's  health," 
said  Jack.  "  Can  anybody  tell  me  why  she's  like 
a  good  ship?" 

"  Because  she's  got  a  good  captain,"  said  Mrs. 
Harding. 

"  That'll  do  mother ;  but  there's  another  reason, 
—  because  she's  well  manned." 

Captain  Bowling  evidently  appreciated  the  joke, 
judging  from  his  hearty  laughter.  He  added  that 
it  wouldn't  be  his  fault  if  she  wasn't  well  rigged, 
too. 

The  marriage  has  turned  out  favorably.  The  cap- 
tain looks  upon  his  wife  as  a  superior  woman,  and 
Rachel  herself  has  few  fits  of  depression  nowadays. 


THE  BOY  GUARDIAN.  331 

They  have  taken  a  small  house  near  Mr.  Hoarding's, 
and  Eachel  takes  no  little  pride  in  her  snug  and 
comfortable  home. 

One  word  more.  At  the  close  of  her  term  of  im- 
prisonment, Peg  came  to  Mrs.  Clifton  and  reminded 
her  of  her  promise.  Dick  was  dead,  and  she  was 
left  alone  in  the  world.  Imprisonment  had  not 
hardened  her,  as  it  often  does.  She  had  been  re- 
deemed by  the  kindness  of  those  whom  she  had  in- 
jured. Mrs.  Clifton  found  her  a  position,  in  which 
her  energy  and  administrative  ability  found  fitting 
exercise,  and  she  leads  a  laborious  and  useful  life 
in  a  community  where  her  history  is  not  known. 
As  for  John  Somerville,  with  the  last  remnants  of 
a  once  handsome  fortune  he  purchased  a  ticket  to 
Australia,  and  set  out  on  a  voyage  for  that  distant 
country.  But  he  never  reached  his  destination.  The 
vessel  was  wrecked  in  a  violent  storm,  and  he  was  not 
among  the  four  that  were  saved.  Henceforth  Ida 
and  her  mother  are  far  from  his  evil  machinations 
and  we  may  confidently  hope  for  them  a  happy  and 
peaceful 


A  Veritable  "Arabian  Nights"  of  Entertainment 
Containing  168  Complete  Illustrated  Stories. 


HURLBUT'S 

STORY  OF  THE 

BIBLE 


told  for 

YOUNG  AND  OLD 

by 
Rev.  Jesse  Lyman  Hurlbut,  D.D. 

THE  BIBLE  MADE  FASCINATING  TO  CHILDREN.— The  heroes  and  the 
noble  men  and  women  of  the  Bible  are  made  to  appear  as 
living,  acting  people.  The  book  is  an  original  work,  and 
in  no  sense  an  imitation.  It  has  been  in  preparation  for 
a  number  of  years. 

THE  DISTINGUISHED  AUTHOR,— Dr.  Hurlbut  has  long  been  asso- 
ciated with,  and  director  of,  the  Sunday  School  work  of 
one  of  the  largest  denominations,  and  he  has  been  more 
closely  associated  with  the  detail  work  of  the  Chautauqua 
movement  than  has  any  other  man.  He  is  also  well  known 
as  a  writer. 

REMARKABLE  FOR  THE  BEAUTY  AND  NUMBER  OF  ITS  ILLUSTRATIONS.— 
There  are  sixteen  pictures  in  color  prepared  for  this  work 
by  the  distinguished  artist,  W.  H.  Margetson,  and  repro- 
duced with  the  beauty  and  attractiveness  of  the  artist's 
original  work.  There  are  also  nearly  300  half-tone  en- 
gravings in  this  remarkable  book,  which  is  as  original  in 
the  selection  of  its  illustrations  as  it  is  in  its  stories. 
WHAT  OTHERS  THINK  OP  IT 

"It  is  a  needed  and  original  work.  Not  an  imitation." — Christian  Ad- 
vocate, New  York. 

"Written  in  such  a  style  as  to  fascinate  and  hold  the  interest  of 
child  or  man." — REV.  P.  E.  CLARK,  Pres.  Society  of  Christian  Endeavor. 

"It  is  a  beautiful  book.  I  hope  every  family  in  the  land  will  secure 
'Hurlbut's  Story  of  the  Bible.'  " — GENERAL  O.  O.  HOWARD. 

"The  best  book  of  its  kind,  and  that  kind  the  most  important." — 
REV.  JAMES  A.  WORDEN,  Presbyterian  B'd  of  Pub.  and  S.  S.  Work. 

'I  like  very  much  the  vocabulary  you  have  used,  andj  can  see  how 
careful  you  have  been  in  choosing  understandable  words." — MR.  PHILIP 
E.  HOWARD,  Sundav-School  Times,  Philadelphia. 

"It  is  the  completest  and  best  thing  of  the  kind  I  have  seen.  The 
book  is  splendidly  illustrated."  MARIAN  LAWRANCE,  General  Secretary 
International  Sunday-School  Association. 

"  Many  will  be  drawn  to  the  Bible  who  otherwise  might  look  upon  it  as 
only  adapted    for  older  people." — HON.  DAVID  J.  BREWER,  Justice  of 
the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States. 
too,  cloth.    750  pages.     16  color  plates.    262  ha/f-fone  engravings.    Net  $1.50 

The  JOHN   C.  WINSTON  CO. 


A  FOREST  DRAMA 

By  Louis  PENDI,ETON,  author  of  "The  Sons  of  Ham,'1 
"The  Wedding  Garment,"  etc.  One  hour  of  common  dan- 
ger makes  two  people  better  acquainted  than  years  of  every- 
day life.  A  tale  of  the  Canadian  Wilds  of  unusual  strength, 
full  of  dramatic  incident  and  the  glamour  of  the  forest  and 
the  lakes.  Illustrated  by  McBurney. 

Price $1.00 

THE  WESTCOTES 

By  A.  T.  QUIUJSR-COUCH  "Q."  A  fascinating  tale  by  this 
well-known  novelist  and  one  certain  to  evoke  admiration. 
Captive  French  officers  in  England  at  the  time  of  Napoleon 
form  the  background  of  the  plot.  Illustrated. 

Price $  1 .00 

THE  TU-TZE'S  TOWER 

By  LOUISE  BETTS  EDWARDS,  author  of  "A  Friend  of  Cara's," 
etc.  A  really  good  story  of  man  in  the  raw.  One  of  the 
best  presentations  in  fiction  of  Chinese  and  Tibetan  life. 
The  story  carries  one  along  almost  breathlessly.  Illustrated* 
Price $  1 .00 

KENT  FORT  MANOR 

By  WIUJAM  H.  BABCOCK,  author  of  "The  Tower  of  Wye,' * 
etc.  Romance  in  the  nineteenth  century  on  the  Isle  of  Kent 
where,  in  earlier  days,  Puritans,  Jesuits,  Indians,  and  Sea- 
Rovers  came  and  went.  That  the  romantic  lurks  so  near 
modern  Baltimore  has  been  hitherto  unsuspected.  Illustrated. 
Price $1.00 

THE  ARCHIEREY  OF  SAMARA 

By  HENRY  luowizi,  author  of  "The  Weird  Orient,"  etc. 
Wealth  of  imagery  and  a  tale  worth  telling  make  this  a  thor- 
oughly readable  novel.  The  author  by  long  residence  in  the 
Orient  has  familiarized  himself  with  all  the  beauties  and 
peculiarities  of  the  mystic  East. 

Price $1.OO 

OTHERS    IN    PREPARATION 

FOR  SALE  BY  ALL  BOOKSELLERS  OR  MAILED  ON 
RECEIPT  OF  PRICE 

THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  CO. 

PUBLISHERS 

PHILADELPHIA,  PENNA. 


Publications  of  The  John  C.  Winston  Company 

THE  GRIFFIN  SERIES 

OF 

NEW  COPYRIGHTED  NOVELS 

In  selecting  a  book  from  the  Griffin  Series  the  public  can 
feel  confident  of  receiving  a  full  measure  of  entertaining  and 
high-class  literature.  Every  book  is  from  the  pen  of  an  author 
of  established  reputation.  Each  work  is  selected  with  dis- 
criminating care  for  clean  and  clever  fiction. 

Uniform,  Artistic  Bindings,    Illustrated.    12mo,  Cloth, 

PRICE,  EACH,  RETAIL       -        $1.0O 


AN  EMBARRASSING  ORPHAN 

By  W.  E.  NORRIS,  author  of  "Lord  Leonard  the  Luckless," 
etc.  The  orphaned  daughter  of  a  wealthy  African  mine- 
owner  causes  her  staid  English  guardian  no  end  of  anxiety. 
A  dainty  heroine  and  a  delightful  story.  Illustrated  by 
Steeple  Davis. 

Price $  1 .00 

SAWDUST:  A  Romance  of  the  Timberlands 

By  DOROTHEA  GERARD  (Madame  Longard  de  Longarde), 
author  of  "The  Eternal  Woman,"  etc.  The  havoc  of  a 
modern  sawmill  in  a  primitive  timber  region  of  Hungary 
and  the  havoc  its  miller's  son  causes  in  the  heart  of  a  titled 
lady.  Illustrated  by  Rollins. 

Price $  1 .00 

A  VICTIM  OF  CONSCIENCE 

By  MII/TON  GOLDSMITH,  author  of  "Rabbi  and  Priest." 
Jewish  types  in  a  New  World  environment  make  a  story 
whose  human  appeal  is  great.  The  struggles  in  an  Amer- 
ican city  of  these  characters,  both  peculiar  and  interesting, 
has  been  seldom  pictured  in  so  graphic  and  so  dramatic  a 
style.  Illustrated. 

Price $1.00 


Out  of  the  Hurly-Burly. 

By  MAX  ADELER, 

Author  of  "  Captain  Bluitt,"  "  The  Quakeress,"  etc.,  etc. 

WITH  400  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  A.  B.  FROST  AND  OTHERS. 


A  BOOK  WITH  A  RECORD. 

Max  Adder's  "  Out  of  the  Hurly-Burly"  has  a  notable  history.  It 
was  first  published  more  than  thirty  years  ago,  and  every  year  since  that 
time  there  has  been  a  large  demand  for  it.  The  total  sales  for  the  Ameri- 
can and  English  editions  probably  approximate  one  million  copies. 

The  book  contains  nearly  four  hundred  of  the  first  drawings  made  by 
the  now  eminent  artist  A.  B.  Frost,  and  is  interesting  upon  that  account. 

It  had  even  larger  popularity  in  Great  Britain  that  in  the  United 
States.  It  has  been  translated  into  several  languages,  and  copies  of  it 
have  gone  literally  to  the  end  of  the  earth.  A  friend  of  the  author's, 
shipwrecked  on  the  coast  of  Norway  a  few  years  ago,  got  ashore  and 
found  refuge  in  a  fisherman's  lonely  hut  The  first  thing  he  saw  upon 
entering  the  building  was  a  Swedish  translation  of  "  Out  of  the  Hurly- 
Burly"  lying  on  a  table,  and  it  made  him  feel  at  home  at  once.  Another 
friend  discovered  the  book  in  the  cabin  of  a  steamer  a  thousand  miles  up 
a  river  in  China.  Cheering  reports  have  floated  in  from  India  respecting 
it,  and  innumerable  tales  have  come  to  the  auther  of  the  pleasure  it  has 
afforded  to  invalids  and  to  the  sorrowing,  and  of  the  joy  it  has  given  to 
young  people  all  over  the  world. 

The  demand  for  "Out  of  the  Hurly-Burly  "  continues.  In  fact,  it  is 
beginning  again  to  increase.  Of  how  many  books  published  in  1874  can 
this  be  said  ? 

The  new  generation  is  leaxning,  as  its  predecessors  did,  that  here  is  a 
book  of  hearty  fun  and  genuiae  sentiment,  which  contains  no  word  that 
can  give  offence,  and  which  contributes  liberally  to  society's  stock  of 
cheerfulness. 

For  more  than  a  third  of  a  century  it  has  supplied  innocent  mirth 
to  a  world  in  which  kindly  humor  is  by  no  means  an  abundant  com- 
modity, and  the  promise  is  that  it  will  have  undiminished  benefaction  for 
generations  still  to  come. 


12mo,  Cloth,  extra    ....    $1.25. 

THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  CO.,  Publishers, 
PHILADELPHIA,  PA. 


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